


Manipulation of Memories and Minds

by Seeryvi



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Actively Avoided Gender, Almost Everyone - Freeform, Angst, Anxiety, Blood, Death, Everyone Is Alive, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Grief, Hate to Love, Hurt/Comfort, I just realized I really love writing Angst, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Just actively avoided that, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Magic, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, My draft is over 100k words so good luck, No Sex, No Smut, Not Beta Read, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, Original Character(s), Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, PTSD, Prisoner Loki (Marvel), Reader Has Powers, Reader helps Loki deal with his trauma, Reader-Insert, SHIELD Agent Reader (Marvel), Slow Burn, Soulmates, Telepathic Bond, Telepathy, There’s just so much Angst!!, Thor (Marvel) is a Good Bro, Trauma, Violence, Wanna shoot Odin to the moon, You’re friends with everyone, good ending, i guess, no use of (Y/N), reader is an avenger
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-05-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:53:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 27
Words: 86,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22136599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seeryvi/pseuds/Seeryvi
Summary: Freeing the leader of an army of aliens from a severe case of mind control certainly wasn’t on your to-do list, but alas, it was precisely what happened.And as if that hadn’t been a feat in and on itself, it also resulted in the discovery of your abilities—mind manipulation and flight—as well as a deep connection binding you to Loki even after your eventual deaths.——————Critique is greatly appreciated!! :)(Updates might be a bit slow and irregular for a while!)(I will try to put relevant triggers in the notes)
Relationships: Frigga | Freyja/Odin (Marvel), Loki (Marvel) & Reader, Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Comments: 81
Kudos: 293





	1. No Time for Free-Time

Vacation.

In _America_?

Honestly, by now you were certain that this may not have been the best idea to ever climb out of the depths of your mind.

Your legs were comfortably stretched across the wooden table between the red couch you were resting on and the TV—which blasted news so unfathomable, so _deranged_ you needed to pinch yourself twice before accepting this to be real.

That this was indeed happening.

And even with that done you turned around to your best friend seated on the opposite end of the couch, whose expression remained glued to the small, old school TV in your rented room to ask them to reassure you as well. Without even sparing you as much as a glance a hand reached across the space between you and pinched your arm. _Hard_.

_Ow_.

Okay, it was real.

Absurd, terrifying creatures were shown on the flickering screen, the shaking video betraying the deeply rooted fear residing in the camera team as they tried their best to hold still and show the situation at hand, swaying over to show citizens running around—their screams mingling together with the war cries of whatever-the-loving-hell was currently racing on flying vehicles through the air. Explosions sounded all around while the moderator, who was barely in focus at all as everyone was too busy to panic to think about how to properly handle a camera, tried to explain the entire ordeal going on.

Only few words managed to reach your numbed ears.

_Aliens took over New York_.

You would have liked to laugh at this—the one time your barely 18 year old self managed to get your ass out of your family home to visit a city far away, a city you had always and forever since dreamed of seeing in its glory, is the _one_ time it gets torn into pieces.

Your distracted brain decided to run on autopilot without the rest of your body registering, mouth opening to yell words around the room your ears didn’t catch, eyes still sticking to the glow of the TV, where you caught a glimpse of a truly unprofessionally filmed clip of a silhouette vaguely standing at the top of the famous Stark Tower; Golden Horns on their head catching the light of the sun as well as the glow of the explosions nearby and reflecting it to the world below.

A sentence appeared at the bottom of the displayed video, something along the lines of an alien-prince-god-thing leading the army of monstrosities which was currently wrecking havoc in the city.

A leader. _Aha_.

The clip quickly switched to show an assembled group of people fighting to keep the creatures at bay and you _honestly_ felt like you woke up to some kind of major joke in which everyone just dressed up and played pretend.

But even you had heard of some of these people before, vaguely, despite living safely tucked away from the stress and chaos and general attention they seemed to attract.

By now your ears had finally caught on and understood the words you had yelled around in a hurry, just as you realized that your friend looked at you expectantly, waiting for you to join the escape you had demanded of them mere seconds ago.

Your lips pressed into a thin line as you made up your mind.

“I’ll join you in a minute.”

Oh, but you were so not going to join them now, were you?

In less than a heartbeat you sprung to your feet, bolting to the bedroom to your left and closing as well as locking the door behind you with varying levels of sharp noises created by the slamming of wood. You hurried to your backpack, hands scrambling around in its insides while you tried your best to block out all the intruding noises, the screams and explosions from the outside world, until your fingers finally brushed against what you needed and you pulled it out with a desperate grin. You took the dark scarf resting in your slightly trembling hands and tightly tied it around your throat, covering your mouth and parts of your nose with it, before moving on to the black set of goggles, only spec of color the reflecting glass embedded into the frame. You set them firmly over your eyes, successfully covering your entire face while your heart beat a mile a minute, almost threatening to leap out of your body and right onto the laminate floor.

But you simply swallowed the lump in your throat, harshly breathing in and out.

And in and out.

Before clenching your hands to fists and throwing yourself out of the opened window.

The wind tugged and pulled on your clothes as your body glided through the air like a bullet right out of a pistol; higher and higher up into the sky until you could finally lock eyes with the gigantic tower looming quite in the distance.

 _One try_ , you chimed. _Take down the leader_.

With these more or less reassuring thoughts you zoomed through the air, willing yourself to become faster and faster as the grip, the lock you always had on your mind loosened in your panic—as voices upon voices, screams upon screams invaded your consciousness, filling every empty space inside you had valued so much. The sheer agony of all these people screaming and begging for their very lives tried to desperately pull your focus away, but you shook your head fiercely, steeling yourself until you finally locked eyes with the silhouette out of the news.

In less than a second some sort of scepter directed itself at you, blue core flaming up dangerously, pulsating with an astonishingly powerful energy. But the movement was too late.

With a _clank_ of glass shards on the ground you crashed through what was left of the gigantic window panel, throwing yourself onto the stranger and sending the scepter sliding over the floor into the far corner of the room. The impact of the collision knocked the air right out of your lungs and you heaved a quick, sharp breath to collect yourself. Opening your eyes they locked right onto the green ones of the person barely a hair length away from your face.

Time seemed to slow considerably as you felt a hand move to your right, as you caught a glimpse of silver being reflected by the beams of sunlight barging into the room, as fear wanted so _desperately_ to creep up in your body, but was rendered useless by the sheer amount of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

For the tiniest fraction of a second you saw it.

A glowing _blue_ flashing across the stranger’s eyes, twirling and dancing around to an inaudible melody; like an unwelcome passenger on a ship, an uninvited guest at a party. Then it vanished.

Before the knife to your right could connect with your side, barely managing to graze the clothes covering it, your hands had already shot up right to the stranger’s face, fingers flying up to press right onto their temples.

Everything seemed to still for a moment.

A short moment.

Then a wave of agony came crashing into you with a force you would have rather left unimagined. Tears welled up in your eyes as you forced yourself into his consciousness, fighting his influence to push right past into the depths of his subconsciousness. You barely managed to heave yourself into a somewhat more sitting position, tears sliding down your face as your mind remained focused solely in finding it.

The _blue_.

The blue thing that had swirled around in the stranger’s eyes, as if mocking you to come and find it.

It was clearly not meant to be there.

The pain only worsened as you weaved around in the far depths of his mind, feeling as if your very soul got tortured by whatever was happening all around you—and you felt genuinely happy as you finally managed to hold onto _something_.

Your own consciousness, a formless spec in the vastness of his being desperately tried to twist and pull on the thing you found. It was but a ball of energy, glowing in different hues of blue edging into a yellow and you tried to focus hard despite feeling like you were being incinerated, focused hard to direct the energy into _you_ instead. Sweat trickled down the almost feverishly hot skin on your face while your heart beat in synch to that of the person below you, his labored breathing mingling with your strained groans of pain and you felt your own strength wavering, vanishing into non existence.

Your veins felt as if on fire, flames burning your body from inside out and you fought hard to suppress a wail, clinging on despite your consciousness fading from his mind as your focus slipped. You refused to let go; you wouldn’t let whatever _that_ was roam around any longer.

And so you sat still—having long since felt the body below you growing weak and motionless while your own tried to desperately double over, writhe on the floor to distract yourself from what you felt.

Then the flow of energy stopped.

And with it, the pain.

You fell to the side right onto the cold tile floor, limply. Directly next to the stranger who felt most likely just as near-dead as you were. Your sight was blurred after you had screwed your eyes shut so very tightly, spots dancing around your vision in hues of red and black as you blinked profusely to regain clarity. Labored breathing slowed with every passing second, heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm—one which wouldn’t make bystanders call upon an ambulance in an instant, that is.

With an agonizingly difficult movement you turned your head to the side, to cautiously watch the person, the alien-god-thing or whatever you had called him before.

After he had almost stabbed you with a knife and blasted your head off with some sort of wand straight out of Harry Potter it seemed like the safer option.

Even though the safest option would have probably been to not come at all.

Your eyes trailed along his form to observe his condition; black hair clung to his face obstructing his view and his skin seemed just as feverishly hot as yours felt, sweat trickling down his cheek and falling to the floor. There were small scratches with small amounts of crimson blood pooling out of some minor wounds and you noted with a hitch in your breath that you most likely hadn’t gotten out of this entire ordeal unscathed either.

Honestly though, he looked like a complete and utter wreck and you sure as hell didn’t want to see yourself in a mirror for the next couple of days, your hand trembling as it reached up your arm to yank out a smaller shard of glass buried inside of it, before chucking it away with a flick of your wrist.

You could still feel the remnant of the terrific agony you had gone through mentally, periodically making your entire body tense up as a cramp echoed though your body. There were feelings swirling inside of you which hadn’t been there prior to this encounter.

Feelings of hatred and guilt, jealousy and disgust and an overwhelming amount of self-loathing and grief. So much so that you questioned everything you had ever felt, alien emotions washing over you and threatening to push and pull you under with its unpredictable, messy currents.

A groan to your side made your eyes regain their focus on the man next to you, watching his eyes open with difficulty as he stared up at the ceiling. The light seemed to blind him as he opened and closed them a good couple of times, gaze still numbly directed straight ahead. His dark brows furrowed in confusion, pupils staring to dart around as much as possible without further moving his head, which was most likely throbbing as if he had just got run over by a car.

Inappropriately the vivid image conjured itself into your head and prompted you to utter a light laugh. A tired, exhausted laugh, but a laugh nonetheless. The man flinched and turned his head around just as cautiously to glance at you.

In your clouded mind you could only wonder what he still remembered of this encounter. Whether you accidentally took some memories of his, perhaps.

Wouldn’t be the first time.

Creeping around someone’s head is serious business after all and the lack of training partners doesn’t actively help in improving your abilities, now does it?

Tuning back to reality you caught him still looking at you with a glare, eyes narrowed in seeming anger but you felt nothing but _**confusion**_ seeping out of his entire being. You stared back, eyes bland and hidden behind the mirrored and colored glasses of your goggles as you simply observed.

Loud noises crept closer and ripped both of you out of your exhaustion and confusion related trance, leaving you to try and crane your head into the direction of where footsteps are apparently thundering down a hallway. Apart from voices talking rather hurriedly and angrily you couldn’t hear any screams anymore. There were no explosions, not a multitude of people yelling in their heads for salvation and whatnot—

 _Oh_.

You must have missed the entire attack.

Time indeed flows differently when you are toying with someone’s mind.

In a shaky movement your hands firmly planted themselves on the floor next to you as you tried your best in hoisting your almost limp body upwards into at least a half sitting position. Probably didn’t look fancy in the slightest, but considering the sweat dripping down your forehead as well as your at times still rather ragged breathing and blood dripping from your arm and all the other cuts—

—You had _definitely_ seen better times.

The alien being next to you apparently sat up as well.

Or tried to.

Glancing over you saw him sitting with one leg stretched out, the other one pulled close to his chest with his left hand clinging onto it and his right propped behind him on the floor to not fall back down. His black hair was disheveled with thick strands sprawled across his face which he made to quickly brush away.

You took one, last thorough look at his eyes and to your relief they seemed positively green. Not a single trace of the blue swirl left.

As if on cue another cramp wrecked your body, prompting you to clutch your head with both of your hands as you fully sat up, squeezing your eyes shut to distract yourself.

When the pain subsided another time and you opened your eyes, you found the alien-god eying you with a hint of suspicion, but you felt a light _**pain**_ swirling inside of him.

Okay.

Maybe you should have _not_ helped him.

You made a mental note to leave him to his own devices should you ever encounter him again, returning his glance with a slight glare of your own.

Finally the incessant stomping had come to an end and you looked up to see a bunch of people standing in the doorway, weapons readied and more or less pointed at you as well as him. With widened eyes you recognized these people as the assembled group from the news.

Oh wow.

You had never expected to meet them, much less with their weapons directed at your head and stern expression grazing their faces. With careful movements you raised your hands up in surrender, but flinched as another jolt surged through your body.

Damn all this magic-alien stuff.

The man next to you spoke up, ripping you out of your pain.

“If you are still up for that drink—I would not mind having it.”

His words rang through the broken down room, glass shards littering the floor and whenever someone shifted, the resulting crunch filled the rising silence. As you glanced at him from the corner of your eyes you could still very well feel the **_agony_** coursing through his own body. Apparently he was trying terribly hard to seem nonchalant.

Which didn’t work on you though and by the look on everyone’s faces, it also didn’t work on anyone else.

With heavy steps a man stepped forward out of the group, light blonde hair barely reaching his shoulders, red cape clipped onto his back. He mustered a look of utter disappointment at the black haired man, before directing his attention over to you. Two other men stepped up and hoisted the alien-god to his feet, the sudden movement almost sending him crashing down due to the excruciating amount of energy which had just been drained by your little experiment.

Oh god, you hopefully never had to do this ever again.

You watched in seeming fascination as one of them reached into a pocket to retract some kind of device, clamping it over the man’s mouth as it turned into some kind of muzzle before he could say anything else. Whatever came out of there didn’t seem to be helpful in any form either way. They further proceeded to shackle his hands together with handcuffs you had never seen before—odd runes edged into its sides and in general appearing to have an old and withered look.

You were so disoriented and distracted that you didn’t even notice the blond man from before kneeling in front of your crumbled up person, a worried glance clouding his blue eyes.

“Hmm?” you asked, having just been snapped out of another trance.

“I was inquiring about your condition,” he repeated himself, eyebrows drawn together on his forehead, “You do not seem to be of adequate health.”

You laughed at that—that is, his way of expressing himself as well as the question—but it was merely because of exhaustion and pain taking over your common sense.

“Sorry,” you quickly mumbled, “too tired to think.”

Your hand shot up to your forehead, wiping away some of the sweat, blood and grime with the back of it. Meanwhile the others carried on with what they were doing, apparently leaving you to be in the man’s custody.

“I just—“ you tried again, gesticulating vaguely in front of your face, “over-exhausted myself?”

You added an unconvincing question mark to the end of your statement, making the man raise an eyebrow.

“I guess.”

The blond stranger seemed deep in thought for a while, before stretching out his hand in a friendly gesture.

“I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard and God of Thunder.” he introduced himself with a smile, despite the uneasiness being terribly obvious in his rather open features. You didn’t even need to delve into his mind to read him like a book.

A book for third graders that is.

You offered a small, tired smile as reply and told him your own name, to which he nodded and repeated it as if to try out the pronunciation and to better keep it in mind.

“Alright, could you stand? I am sure my friends will feel obligated to ask you a few questions and I do have a few of them myself. Would you mind answering them?”

Oh _crap_. The questions.

You held onto the hope that they had no idea who exactly you were. A name means nothing, right? There are quite a lot of these floating around the world after all.

A sigh ripped through your throat, but you gave a light nod nonetheless.

With difficulties and therefore the help of Thor—who you, in all honesty, not quite believed to be a god—you stood up, pushing all the dizziness and fatigue into neat little boxes in the far recesses of your mind to be dealt with later. But as soon as your eyes fell onto the black haired man from before, his eyes locking with yours in but a second, all these overwhelming, alien emotions bubbled up inside of you again and you hoped with all you had that whatever was currently going on within you would subside as soon as possible.

You were all urged inside of an elevator, which felt especially uneasy considering it was not only filled to the brink with just people, strangers at that, but instead some weird self-proclaimed god-aliens from which one of them killed a bunch of people, tried to annihilate an entire city and attempted to murder you—also, it was an elevator.

Your eyes kept glued to the doors in front of you, trying to desperately think yourself into any other situation. You were only glad that the green creature, the Hulk apparently, didn’t manage to press himself inside this limited space as well.

This would have made your heart literally skyrocket in panic—the fist colliding with the door and leaving behind a deep dent was troubling enough already.

With a shake of your head you tried to keep your wandering thoughts to yourself, tried to ignore your own curiosity in wanting to find out more about the people you were perched into this elevator with, prioritizing your own exhaustion and lack of strength as a strangled sigh escaped your slightly parted lips.

They were all going to introduce themselves soon enough, you reasoned.

After all they had questions.

And wanted your answers.


	2. Incessant Interrogation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A nice interrogation with Nick Fury and the newly formed Avengers.

After having confined the weird black haired alien dude into a cell on some kind of gigantic airplane thing, you were seated in a control room at a glass table, pairs of eyes all staring at you, seeming ready to tear you apart in but a moment’s notice. To distract yourself from their obvious attention you diverted your gaze to observe your surroundings.

The ship looked wrecked, honestly. It was obviously being cleaned while you spoke—or _waited_ that is—people bustling around with brooms in their hands, carrying broken down devices in their arms and all had similar devastated expressions on their faces.

With a shift of a door a man entered, obviously much later than the rest as you had been waiting for him. Or so you assumed. No one uttered even a single word, so guesses were the only thing you could cling onto.

His hand reached up to his nose, propping up the tinted glasses placed on it while his other hand clutched a little bag—presumably with food.

“So,” he began, seating himself down in one of the available chairs, “Now that _Reindeer Games_ has been confined into another cell—hoping he won’t be breaking out of it anytime soon _again_ —we should introduce ourselves.”

He placed his hands on the table, reaching inside the bag and pulling out a few blueberries, grinning before popping them into his mouth. His head turned into your direction and you could vaguely make out his eyes behind the orange glass while he was looking at you.

You still tried to refrain from reading anyone’s mind, not wanting to give them an excuse for executing you right then and there, should they manage to find out what _exactly_ you could do. Common sense slowly crept back into your head now that the adrenaline was starting to die out and _frankly_ , you were starting to freak out.

With a jolt you snapped out of it just as the man started to actually introduce himself.

“I’m Tony Stark. Also known as Iron Man.” A smug smile grazed his face, filled with pride as he awaited your reaction, your recognition. But got none.

He coughed to break the tense silence.

“Haven’t heard of me? Genius? Billionaire? Philanthropist?”

Nothing.

“The big tower in New York you crashed into was mine?”

Still nothing.

A dragged out, almost desperate sigh escaped the brunette’s mouth while someone else cleared their throat to interrupt his lament.

“You need to ignore him,” the blond man in a blue suit spoke up, words directed at you as the silver star shining on his chest caught your attention, “He’s not used to people who don’t immediately know and praise him.”

“Funny coming from you, _Capsicle_. Who runs around dressed like a flag?”

The man, Capsicle you guessed, just rolled his eyes, pondering whether he should answer the former man’s claim with a witty comeback of his own and therefore stoop to his level—but ultimately deciding against it.

“I’m Steve Rogers. Also called Captain America.”

Now that made sense. You very vaguely remembered having heard the name before even all the way back in your home country, where waving national flags outside of national holidays is seen as threatening and evil.

Apparently the American flag held up to some sort of holy standard in America? And having a _hero_ embody it—even better.

You nodded, urging them to continue. Your mind was still so very clouded and distracted by everything that had happened, you deemed yourself lucky enough if you could remember just _one_ of their names.

What was the first dude called again?

Metal Man?

A voice to the far right interrupted your train of thoughts.

“Natasha Romanov.”

She spoke the words with a curt nod accompanying the short statement of her name, sending her red locks bouncing on top of her head.

The man to her left continued,

“Clint Barton.”

They seemed so distant and cold, whatever signals you were subconsciously picking up almost chilled you to the very bone.

Spies? Assassins perhaps?

Were they getting ready to murder you should you not behave as you were supposed to, perhaps even as soon as they got their much desired answers?

Oh god, were you even going to make it out _alive_?

The man to the far left, who you actually remembered to be called Thor, repeated his former introduction. To appeal more formal you concluded.

Wait. He was _what_ exactly?

You hadn’t quite listened to the titles when he had told them the first time, but now it broke through even the blurry haze of your mind like the sun piercing the blanket of clouds with its beams of blazing light.

A god-prince-alien thing?

 _Another_?

The last man, who sat in the exact middle of the table directly across from you ripped you out of your confusion and settling exhaustion. Despite the first man’s confidence and tendency to the art of drama, the latter seemed to be the one actually in charge of this small assembled group of people.

You tried to discard the inappropriate—but hilarious—thought of the man as a pirate once your gaze fell on the black eyepatch covering one of his eyes.

As soon as he said your name all thoughts in your head fell silent.

“My name is Nick Fury and I’m the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., the organization you crossed paths with today. For everyone’s safety I advise you to not disclose what we are discussing here. With anyone.”

You nodded with wide eyes—it seemed like mere advice but his voice made clear it was a veiled threat.

His hands moved on top of the folders neatly placed in front of him on the table and opened them up with a flick of his wrist, his eyes trailing along the lines and pictures as if to gather the gist of the written words. From where you were seated you thought you vaguely recognized a picture of you in the midst of his files.

_What_?

He began by reciting all of the information they had about you, which was much more than you thought they could have and your face paled with every second in which he continued to speak.

“That’s _you_. Right?”

Your thoughts spiraled so deep into panic it felt like they were bolting right downwards into the surface of the Earth and all the way into its very core—So deep in your state of panic all you could do was nod, albeit slowly and unsure. And above it all, terribly _afraid_.

But despite it all you still refrained from using your abilities, knowing that everyone was watching you intently as if waiting for you to try and do _something_. Especially the two people on your right worried you, feeling their stares burning holes right through your skin.

You felt so very small at this table, surrounded not only by adults (despite being of age yourself), but apparently some entire secret agency in a secret gigantic ship.

“I have to ask you to take off your mask and scarf,” the man continued, folding his hands on the table, “After all we already know who you are, so there is no further need for such measures, correct?”

His words almost faded as the ringing in your ears got louder, shaky hands numbly moving to untie the knot holding the dark scarf in place behind your head. You loathed the feeling of discarding your only sense of security and anonymity, grabbing ahold of your googles and almost agonizingly slowly pulling them off your head, before placing both items in front of you on the table.

You felt laid bare, naked.

Fury nodded.

“Please start by explaining what brought you to the Stark Tower. As we know you are no citizen of America.”

You bit your lip, voice shaky and raspy as you began speaking after such a while of keeping quiet, nervousness making it waver.

“I just wanted to go on vacation with my friend, really. I only wanted to visit America.”

The stares didn’t lessen and you felt your nerves giving away for a short jolt of confidence and annoyance. Of sass, perhaps.

“Apparently I was _unlucky_ enough to choose the exact week in which aliens were scheduled, how should _I_ have known.”

Your words laced with sarcasm prompted a quiet, veiled chuckle from Captain America and boisterous laughter from Metal Man.

Nick Fury ignored them and pressed on.

“So you just—heard of the attack and wanted to help?”

“Now that you say it, it _does_ sound idiotic.” You gave a light, nervous laugh but winced as another surge of pain rolled through your veins.

“ _Ow_ —“

You composed yourself.

“Okay, so—The news I’ve seen on TV. People were screaming, the shaky camera, the cries...My mind just went kinda blank. And when they showed the Stark Tower I just thought the best way to end this quickly was to take out the leader.”

You folded your hands on the table, voice having grown quieter.

“You were busy enough protecting the citizens. Seeing this, my instincts just—kicked in. I was already in the middle of it before I understood what was happening.”

With your lips pressed in a tight line you kept your eyes glued to your hands resting on the glass top, refusing to look at anyone’s face to see their reaction to your story.

Again, Nick Fury continued.

“What about your abilities?”

_Oh no_.

“Apparently you came crashing through a window at the top of the Stark Tower, which offers the assumption that you can fly.”

Your palms started to sweat in anticipation. In terror and despair.

 _Why_ did you think that helping could be a good idea?

“Apart from that, our people found you and Loki in some weird trance when we went to retrieve the scepter. Could you explain what that was about?”

You _could_ —but you really, _really_ didn’t want to.

The thing was this:

For as long as you could remember you held a very specific set of abilities.

You first noticed your ability of Mind Manipulation when you had turned nine and accidentally brushed against someone’s head with your hand—and ended up with a memory of a mother that wasn’t yours singing a sweet lullaby to you when you were six.

You discovered your ability of Flight when you were eleven and had fallen out of a tree you had carelessly climbed even while the rain was pouring—and ended up floating safely to the muddy ground without a single scratch or any other injuries.

Yes, Mind Manipulation and Flight; these were your secret abilities.

But that was the case in point. They were supposed to be _secret_.

You knew how people carrying this kind of power were usually being treated, how they were seen and immediately pigeonholed, as if pushed into tiny little drawers of a wardrobe; as if everyone with Mind Manipulation was the same. The same, terrible _monster_ who made people their very marionettes, forcing them to tend to every single assignment their mind had spewed right out of the depths, flaming pits and crevices of hell.

And who would even trust a person capable of finding out their every little secret? Everything they would have ever wanted to forget or ignore?

All your knowledge came right from the news obviously, from books and movies.

It was the general way humanity seemed to think, to function.

—and you just really, _really_ didn’t want to be executed just because you held these powers.

Usually you didn’t even use them. Much.

With a tilt of your head, which felt as much as a death sentence as being positioned under the guillotine to your frantically beating heart, you dared to look up only to find all pairs of eyes staring at you, making you shrink back into the chair even more.

Maybe there was a way out of all this?

Maybe you could sacrifice enough of your already far too drained power to manipulate them into letting you out and—

As your eyes met Fury’s cold, calculating stare all what was left of your confidence and hope faltered; you deflated and you caved.

“Mind Control.”

Your voice was barely above a whisper but it carried an inner strength with it which made everyone in the room perk up immediately, especially the male agent to the far right, you noted with furrowed brows.

They gave you time.

Enough time to properly explain yourself, you vaguely noticed, but you chose to remain quiet, spiraling in your own personal hell in the tremendous panic enveloping you.

“We already know about that.” Fury continued on in a tone so matter-of-factly your blood ran frozen cold in your veins.

“—after all Loki managed to use his scepter to influence the minds of quite a bunch of our agents.”

Now it was your turn to perk up, mind growing blank as you tried to follow the implications of his words, his actual explanation turning into nothing but static background noise.

Did he not understand that it was you and not the scepter? Did he merely pretend not to?

There was literally nothing you would have rather done than completely disappearing from existence altogether, other than— _perhaps_ —simply manipulating the agents in front of you into letting you go.

And forget all about this encounter.

But alas, you lacked the experience. Using your abilities on just one person had already sent you into a spiral of agonizing pain, but six people at once seemed difficult at best, whereas completely impossible in your current condition.

That stunt you had pulled earlier, merely out of a flurry of emotions was proof enough and you still suffered the consequences of your inexperience.

“The question at hand is—“

In just that moment your desperate prayers seemed to have finally been answered as a shrill alarm pierced the air all around you with its incessant noise, Fury calmly reaching into his pocket to pull out some sort of communication device.

“Yes?”

He stayed seated only for a couple more seconds before he stood abruptly, absentmindedly gazing at the half-broken wall to his right.

“We will be right there.”

With that he ended the call and slipped the device back into the pockets of his black coat, pointedly turning around. His focus shifted to each person seated at the table, you shrinking more into your seat as his look hushed over your eyes, pushing yourself so deeply into the fabric you hoped it might fuse you with it and turn you invisible.

No such luck, sadly.

His deep voice carried authority through the room as he spoke once again.

“I am going to report the results of our mission to the higher ups this instant. Romanoff, Clint, Stark, Rogers,” he took turns, looking at each person while he addressed them, “I have just received a call asking for our help in a matter regarding the safety of New York’s citizen. I will brief you with further details on our way.”

The others started rising from their positions around the table as well, leaving you behind puzzled and slightly afraid while your brain tried to follow everything that was happening so very quickly in front of your eyes. You looked over to Thor, who remained in his seat.

“Thor,” Fury continued on, answering your unvoiced doubts, “I have been informed that you do have a few questions of your own in regards to the incident. I need you to stay behind and ensure the safety of our guest, as well as keep check on your brother. I fear no one else might be able to.”

The way he said _guest_ sent a shiver down your spine, for you felt far more like a _war criminal_ or a _prisoner_ , a _convict_ walking your way to the gallows perhaps—anything but a _guest_. Thor nodded firmly and the two of you watched as the group took their leave.

You shifted slightly in the chair as the silence fell like a smothering blanket on the both of you, threatening to suffocate you should you not rip it open with a knife—with words. Fear ate away on your nerves as you let the seconds tick by in which neither Thor nor you said a single thing.

Until he finally took his eyes off the long since closed door, pitiful look falling on you—reminding you off a stray dog—and broke the quiet surrounding you, much to your relief.

You quickly pushed the mental image away.

“Would you perhaps agree to answering a few of my questions?”


	3. Eager Exchange of Earnest Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Questions are being answered and you catch a glimpse of the memories you took.

“Would you perhaps agree to answering a few of my questions?”

The table suddenly felt incredibly small, thin. As if there was nothing separating you from the stranger, who in reality sat quite a good couple of meters away from you. You nodded, but the distress in your features apparently seemed so palpable, the blonde opted to address the question lingering in your head, lingering in the very atmosphere of the control room before diving into just another interrogation.

“I have not known Fury for long, but know that he most likely understood your implication of being able to control minds. It was merely supposed to be a test—see whether he is capable of trusting you in telling the truth.”

He thought for a moment.

“I believe he merely covered up to not upset you any further—as you had already given your answer.”

Ah. _Crap_.

His eyes widened; apparently he saw the fear dripping from every bit of your expression, perhaps even heard your frantically hammering heart.

“But worry not!” he said, giving what was supposed to be a light laugh, but tore out of his throat like a roar, “You have stopped my brother, putting an end to his wicked schemes and I am hereby deeply indebted to you. From now on you will be placed under my protection.”

You swallowed the lump which had formed in your throat, the feeling of suffocating never quite leaving you, even after the silence had been broken, the blanket had been lifted.

_How could he trust you like this?_

No. You were too afraid to ask that.

“Brother?” you asked instead and spoke the words cautiously into the tense atmosphere, tilting your head lightly to the side.

“Oh,” he crossed his arms on the table, “My brother. The person who threatened the peace of your realm. The one currently residing in your dungeons.”

You got the gist.

“Oh, uh—wow.”

The blanket fell back down, grew heavier, thicker.

As if preparing itself for the coming winter.

“I, uh—“ you started to wind yourself through the quiet—the blanket once more, eyes darting from his kind looking eyes to pretty much everywhere else in the room, “Are you actually a god?”

He stayed still for another couple of seconds, before loud, booming laughter erupted from him—due to you abruptly and ungainly changing the subject. With a smile he decided to accept it, postponing his own questions to answer yours.

“Yes, that is indeed the case. Although your definition of a god is not quite what we truly are,” he said, starting to gesture with animated movements of his arms and hands, “Older cultures of your planet worship us as some, even though we are merely stronger and have longer lives. We are not invincible. We die, just like your kind does.”

Your mind thought it over, mouth slightly agape as you reflected on what you had learned, before accepting it with a slow nod to show your understanding.

“Now I would like to ask you a question of my own,” he began, leaning forward ever so slightly in his seat, serious expression grazing his face, “Do you mind explaining to me what exactly you did to my brother that made him so...docile?”

Your eyes darted to the far corner of the room, finding sudden interest in the dirt coated around some objects on the floor, in the couple of glass shards splayed one the ground hinting at an earlier fight.

“I, uh, used my abilities to enter his mind and—“ you tried to find the right words, starting to wave your hands in wild gestures as if trying to pull the thoughts you were looking for out of your head. But the situation seemed so ridiculous, so terribly ridiculous that your subconsciousness almost refused to even try.

After a short pause to collect yourself you continued, “I actually just meant to keep him in place until you guys arrive to solve the problem. I just thought that eliminating the leader might....shatter the morale or something. Convince these—alien-things—to leave.”

“Chitauri.” Thor added.

“Chitauri.” you repeated, trying your best to imitate his accent and pronunciation.

With a hesitant look to your left and right—as if making sure that no one else was listening—your voice dropped to a whisper. As if afraid of admitting what you had seen, the simple thing, the color _blue_ you had noticed for nothing but a split second. Thinking back, basing all of your actions on it seemed too radical now. Too reckless.

“There was something,” you muttered, eyes narrowing slightly as another quick jolt of pain surged through you, forcing you to draw in a sharp breath, “—a blue swirl in his eyes.”

You noted that Thor leaned forward a bit more, shifting his weight to rest more on the table while you put your head in your hands, desperately rubbing your palms around your face to make the situation seem more grounded, more realistic.

“I felt it didn’t belong and—absorbed it.” you continued, “I think—I think it was manipulating his mind somehow.”

When you peeked through the gaps in between your fingers your eyes fell on Thor, whose expression was filled with terror and concern and you almost felt bad for deciding to tell him. But if someone deserved to know the truth about what happened, it was going to be him—being the alien-god’s brother and all.

What was his name again?

Loki?

A dry laugh—out of pure nervousness and a desire to fill the newly formed silence that is—escaped your throat, just as another flash of fire through your veins made you double over in your seat, a tear escaping your eye as you continued to try and ignore the pain.

“I don’t think my body knows what to do with it.”

It was but a quiet, hushed whisper and prompted Thor to stay quiet for a while. The while turned into what felt like minutes and you feared to have broken him, before he shook his head as if to clear his mind. Your hand tightly gripped onto the edge of the glass table in front of you, flames within you sparking up to a roaring fire and you squeezed your eyes shut and controlled your breathing as much as you possibly could—until the wave rolling over you faded back into nothingness.

“I—I don’t think doctors can help me...” you breathed, preparing yourself to sit up straight once more as you pushed yourself up using the table as a crutch. Thor was already looking at you, blond eyebrows furrowed and mouth in a straight line. You lightly tilted your head in confusion.

“This might sound—absurd,” he started, and _wow_ did sentences like this never end particularly well, “But I could perhaps offer you to come with us to Asgard. Simply to have your condition inspected more properly that is.”

He moved his folded arms to instead tightly clasp his hands together.

“Like you implied, I doubt your doctors on Midgard would know how to tend to it.”

Whatever it was you expected, it wasn’t this.

“Wait what?” you began, mouth agape and eyes wide, “To another entire _planet_?”

The blond looked slightly distressed, mistaking your surprise as some form of rejection. He shifted in his seat to rethink his decision.

“It was merely an idea we could explore, you do not need to come.”

You shook your head so fiercely that it started spinning, almost completely managing to ignore the jolt flashing inside you and burning up your insides.

“No wait, that sounds fascinating!” you beamed up at him, light smile gracing your expression, “I was just very, very surprised, that’s all!”

The smile found its way back on his face and you gave a relieved sigh.

“Wonderful! I can only hope that we will find a method to ease your pain. After all you did truly help us. Without your interjection we might have taken a lot longer in ending this invasion, resulting in more casualties.”

You averted your eyes with a bright smile, not quite knowing how to handle praise and _especially_ not the praise of some alien god. Clearing your throat, you tried to divert the attention to different matters.

“What even happened while I was, uh, out?” you asked and he let out a small chuckle, before briefing you with the past couple of hours; the battle, the reason behind it, namely an artifact called _the Tesseract_. Apparently you knocking out his brother had resulted in the heroic group being able to take the scepter without any further trouble, shutting down the opened portal looming in the sky with ease. He also mentioned that nuke bombs had been sent—and while one of them luckily got hindered in its arrival, the other one flew right into the alien’s spaceship and blew it to pieces. Only thanks to Metal Man.

— _Iron Man_.

Wow.

You would have been dead now, if it weren’t for his selfless act.

_America_?

You briefly wondered—mouth agape as if sitting at the dentist—just how _much_ of this could be considered classified information, because you couldn’t even imagine the faces people back home would pull should you tell them about the nuke-bomb-thing.

 _Unthinkable_.

A smile was still firmly etched into your face as you glanced up at Thor, until—with another jolt—your sight blurred and you felt that by now almost familiar feeling of being engulfed in flames, the fire boiling your insides returning. In the midst of your pain you caught glimpses of an unfamiliar place all around you, faces you both knew and didn’t know, but felt as if you knew them regardless; their names appearing inside your mind as if you had known them for centuries.

_What_?

A vision struck you.

Feelings of grief and dread, hatred and panic as you cowered over a figure crumbled on a flight of stairs; glimpses of an elderly man, eyepatch over his right eye as gold as the glistening stars in the night sky around you—Despite the inky abyss below entombing you as you fell backwards into the dark and infinite cosmos while faces looked after you in horror. You felt hopeless, _utterly_ hopeless and at the same time so very full of apathy as you felt your own body floating through darkness before being swallowed whole by it.

A glance of a tall man flashed in front of your inner eye and your breath hitched in your very throat as he marched towards you. Your body trembled against whatever it was that restrained you in terror, agony surging like lightning through every fiber of your limp body as adrenaline coursed through your veins, everything screaming inside your mind in despair as you watched the stranger step closer—

You snapped out of it as you felt two hands placed firmly on your shoulders, shaking you gently but urgently while the vision faded, reverberation lingering for quite a while as his words didn’t quite manage to ring through the maze that was your head. One of your hands was clutching your stomach, you realized, the other yanking your hair.

Once your sight returned to normal, unpleasant blur vanishing, your eyes locked with the very concerned blue ones of Thor—who had rushed over to make sure you were alright.

With shaking hands you gripped onto his arms, trying to both reassure him that you were indeed okay, as well as steady yourself against the twist and pull of more or less unfamiliar memories.

Wait.

_Memories_?

Recognition wound its way through your trembling body as you realized what was going on. Apparently inexperience sucked more than you thought it would. You knew there was a chance something like this might happen—even though you had hoped that it simply wouldn’t. But when did you ever get what you wanted, really?

Did you take even more than what you had already seen?

And if _you_ had them—did he not?

There was only one way to find out.

Your eyes filled with intense determination, so much so that the sudden change didn’t go unnoticed by the God of Thunder crouching in front of you.

“Do you think I could talk to your brother?”

Thor’s blond eyebrows shot up so quickly, you thought they might as well start floating away from his forehead, soaring into the sky like birds.

“What for?”

“Because of the, uh, mind control thing,” you said, letting go of your unintentionally firm grip on his arms and instead folding your hands in your lap, “I don’t do this very often—So I’d like to ask him some things.”

Your voice had started to grow more quiet towards the end, as you were rather unsure whether you _actually_ wanted to talk to him. He _did_ try to kill you after all—even though he didn’t get that far.

But these memories...

“Please?” you added, expression falling into a grimace.

Thor rose from his perched position to offer you a hand.

“No one told me you weren’t allowed to and in addition to that, I was also tasked with keeping both of you in check,” he began, “Which is to say, of course! I will accompany you.”

You cringed inwardly as Thor gently pulled you to your feet, starting to march—presumably—towards were his brother was being held.

“I wanted to go alone.”

Thor stopped, abruptly, turning to look at you with furrowed brows.

“Why?”

You swallowed, scratching the back of your neck as a way to divert the attention from your face to anywhere else.

“It’s just—“

You would never lie.

There was merely this thing inside you, these memories inside you and your curiosity to whether you took anything else from him. Apart from his—judging by his behavior after your earlier mind-interaction—unnecessary excessive pride perhaps.

“First I wanna say—I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me. Thank you for being so kind.” You bit your lip in thought before continuing.

“It all feels kinda awkward to me, talking about all of this. It’s like a really private thing to be that deep in someone’s mind. To know what they don’t even want to know themselves and—and I feel like this should stay as private as possible.”

Weird description, not a lie and not too detailed either. Well done.

Despite everything he nodded, as if understanding even your messy excuse for an explanation.

“Alright,” he spoke, carefully, as if thinking deeply before continuing, “But I must inform you that my brother...is not easy to be trusted. Too many have made that mistake and regretted it later on. I do not wish for you to be befallen by the same fate.”

You gave a slight nod, sorrowful smile appearing on your face as you read between the lines—behind who exactly he was referring to by _too many_ , heart spilling out of every word he so thoughtfully spoke.

“I’ll remember, don’t worry. I’ll take care.”

Your smile turned into an almost mischievous smirk as you added on, “And if he misbehaves, I’ll just brainwash him.”

At first Thor seemed almost shocked, before recognizing it for what it was. A joke meant to ease his worries. He appreciated your concern and attempt at lifting his spirits, his frown turning into a smile.

With that said and done he led you to his brother’s seeming location, taking all sorts of twists and turns through hallways that all looked the same; white, silver and bland. If it wouldn’t be for the stray part of debris that is, the torn apart wall or the glass shards on the floor. You walked up a flight of stairs, then one down, left, right, then left again and another flight of stairs deeper into the very core of the facility.

Despite all of that mindless destruction it still looked too similar for you to safely find your way back out all alone and you couldn’t have been happier to know that Thor was with you.

After a while he gestured towards an entrance to your right, giving you a firm nod before assuring you that he will periodically check the cameras for any sign of trouble. With an almost uneasy but appreciative wave you followed the path through the final hallway, each small step making you feel slightly more nauseous than the last one.

A low voice echoed along the bare white walls before you could even see him.

“Hello Little One.”


	4. Talks of Threats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interrogating Loki—the irritated and overly annoyed god—, what could go wrong?

“Hello Little One.”

His smooth voice send an involuntary shiver down your spine as you crept closer, trying to keep your fear from rising in your throat as well as suppressing the curiosity to what he might be thinking. The glass cell in the middle of the room seemed to be the only thing that had been replaced after whatever wrecked havoc in these very walls—debris strewn around every single spec, but the jail in the middle looked good as new.

“Hi Alien-God.”

This sounded a lot more confident than you felt.

You caught him rolling his eyes, before standing up from where he was perched on a bench in the far corner of the glass cell, striding over to you with long, purposeful steps. He kept an obvious distance, you noted, stopping in the middle of his confinement. There was some sort of _**uncertainty**_ dwelling inside of him, radiating far more forcefully than his demeanor let on; uncertainty only you could pick up.

“To what do I owe the honour of your presence?”

You flinched, feeling conflicted by the light sarcasm dripping from his voice, as well as by merely being in his general vicinity.

There was this weird part screaming at you to turn back around, fed by the knowledge that he tried to inflict genocide on your kind, almost eradicated an entire city and attempted to murder you. But there was also this other tiny, almost infinitesimal part that wished to stay, intrigued by his contradictory behavior, knowing deep down that you had seen more deeply inside of him than you probably should have.

You wondered if he knew.

“Uh, you, actually.” you said, uttering a more than just awkward laugh which sounded so terribly unconvincing you abruptly stopped to bite down on your tongue. He arched a dark eyebrow.

It looked almost comical, the way he was standing behind the glass; upright,black and green perhaps-leather-clad without any blemishes or scratches, hands neatly folded in front of him. Even his black hair was all sleek and styled again for some unknown reasons. Did they give him a hairbrush or what?

In contrast to him your hair was still disheveled, dirt and blood, sweat and grime still coating your face, your arms; cuts in your clothing from all the shards that had flung themselves into your body and into your flesh.

It felt _embarrassing_ in a way.

You noted that he still carried the handcuffs around his wrists, connected with a chain that restricted their movements to barely a shoulder’s length apart—only the muzzle being gone from his mouth. Perhaps they should have kept that. All the while you were analyzing his posture and demeanor, his green eyes still pierced you with an expression that urged you to continue.

“Uhm, do you feel—“ you paused for a moment, stuttering as his confident appearance made you question your very own confidence, “—different maybe?”

There was a low chuckle echoing throughout the glass room, biting your ears with its malicious sound.

“Apart from being locked in a _**highly secure**_ cell that is?”

The way he emphasized _highly secure_ , laced with sarcasm and disdain made your skin crawl, tempting you to call for Thor—but you resisted the urge to do so and stood your ground.

“Yes,” you continued, pausing for a second as you fidgeted with your clothes, “Do you—do you feel like _something_ is missing?”

“What are you referring to?”

His eyes had slightly narrowed and you refused to flinch under his penetrating gaze, deciding to focus on the **_confusion_** he felt rather than the mixture of resentment and indifference he attempted to portray.

That helped. A lot actually.

If he pretended to be confident, perhaps you could do the same.

“Memories, mostly. Do you feel anything missing? Any weird blackouts you can’t explain?”

For some reason he looked like he wasn’t going to answer this question—perhaps because he didn’t know himself—eyes directed at an object slightly to the side, general expression hard as steel.

“Listen,” you said, hand moving from your clothing to hold onto your arm, “I don’t want to do this, but I can get it out of you if I have to. I’d just prefer it if you...talked to me.”

A snort ripped itself out of his mouth while he raised his chin to glare you down. Not very princely.

“What do you—a **_mere mortal_** —believe you could possibly do to force me to comply?”

So he didn’t remember.

Apparently you took even more than you thought.

“Funny that you say that.” you scoffed, irritated at his lack of cooperation, slightly cheeky tone in your voice, because—honestly—what was the most he could do? Punch the glass?

“I don’t remember you standing much of a chance against me a couple of hours ago.”

His green eyes glared at you, piercing you with their fake superiority as slow, deliberate steps brought him closer to the glass panel separating you.

“I do not remember such a situation.”

You laughed, once again terribly forced and mostly out of desperation and fear—but you were _not_ going to back down and instead leaned closer to the glass screen as well.

“Then this is just an example of what I can do.”

He leaned back a bit, taking in a deep breath through gritted teeth and all the while keeping his eyes focused on you.

“So tell me,” you said, feeling as if having gained the upper hand in your _conversation_ , “What is the last thing you remember about the fight—right before the men in black arrived to clasp that muzzle over your mouth?”

His eyes narrowed even further, disgust edging to revulsion in his scowl as you made him recall that, no doubt _humiliating_ event, inevitably hurting his apparently fragile pride.

“Do not be fooled into thinking that you have any kind of control over me, _**mortal**_.”

You gave a light shrug and closed your eyes, mentally calling upon what was left of your strength. So far you had never really needed to utilize your abilities much, which left them underdeveloped and frail, so much so that you surely couldn’t use them more than a few times a day.

Which is _not_ to say that you had _never_ used them before; you had certainly tested your limits—which you weren’t exactly proud of. After all it involved involuntary test subjects.

You just hadn’t used it much for personal gain. Morals prevailing and such.

In a gentle movement your hands wandered to your temples, merely to help direct your focus, as you unleashed your powers and entered his mind.

Just as you had expected, you were overwhelmed by agonizing amounts of pain as soon as you entered his _consciousness_. That dark, ebony place of his seemed like a black hole—devoid of any light or hope, happiness or joy. You knew for a fact, that yours was much brighter. White even.

It surprised you to even find yourself in such vacant space. Usually the memories were more easy to access, floating around for you to pick up like DVDs from a library. This unusual empty void most likely meant that he had a lot of things to hide, even from _himself_ —something he didn’t want to know, wanted to forget.

But it could _also_ mean that he—

—Some sort of disruption cut through your thoughts, almost throwing you out of his consciousness, something akin to a hard shove and you fought to stay, to focus.

Luckily, for this little experiment you wouldn’t need to delve deeper into his mind to reach his subconsciousness. The current place would gratefully be enough; the place of thoughts and very recent memories—recent enough to still be actively bustling around in the awareness—as well as a little...mind control. Such as telling someone to do something and making them believe it was their own decision which led them to it.

This was the stuff villains were made of and it scared you, which is why you refrained from doing it.

_Strangely_ , you could still feel a disturbance, the alien-god violently struggling against your influence, despite being very clearly _immensely_ weakened due to whatever you had pulled from his mind. In addition to that the feeling of burning to a crisp made it even more difficult to navigate through his messy mind—as if it wasn’t difficult enough without his intervention complicating the entire process.

You tried to make it quick, for you felt yourself growing weaker in tandem with him—knees starting to buckle under the stress and pressure.

Mind torn between giving in and continuing its search you luckily came across what you were looking for. He apparently remembered having some kind of disagreement with Iron Man on the Stark Tower, threatening him with his staff, _**scepter**_ , before throwing him out of the window.

That at least explained, why the glass had been half broken even before you had arrived to smash it into even tinier pieces.

Your body gave a jolt and you forced your focus to return, albeit with obvious effort.

He vaguely remembered watching Stark as he caught himself, before his eyes fell on a silhouette dashing towards the air like a bullet aimed for his head. Too distracted by the previous encounter he raised his arm holding the scepter a little too late in an attempt to murder you, _**incapacitate you**_ , before your body collided with his and dragged him to the ground.

Sight starting to blur he recalled clutching onto a knife in fury, _**panic**_.

Then everything turned an obvious shade of black and you noted the next thing to be him waking up on the tile floor of the Tower without any recollection of what happened between the two of you colliding and waking on the ground; you next to him heaving a breath.

As soon as you had seen what you needed, confirming your theory, you released him from your clutches. You gasped for oxygen as your hand grasped the fabric over your chest to try and calm your labored and ragged breathing, waiting for the raging fire within you to subside. This was definitely not normal—terrible _exhaustion_ along with a _headache_ at times, sure, but this kind of _flaming agony_ had never been something to come with using your abilities.

He caught your eyes with difficulty, looking as beaten up and weary as you felt and you just knew that he had to see and feel everything you saw and felt too.

His feet almost stumbled as he took a step away from the glass, shaking, before composing himself and stepping closer once more, trying to look menacing while approaching but looking rather miserable at best. With glowering eyes he almost pressed his face flush against the glass.

“What have you done to me?”

“Just now or back then?” you tried for a weak smirk, but he forcefully punched the glass so vigorously that you feared it to crack, shutting you up in an instant while you gazed from his pale fist to his glowing eyes, watched a bead of sweat roll down his face in obvious pain and distress.

Oh. Don’t anger an alien. God. Thing.

Got it.

His mouth opened with an obvious strain, as if he had to force his voice to work, the words to leave his tongue,

“What are you planning to achieve by—“

Just in that moment your body decided to fail you, knees colliding with the cold floor in a harsh _thud_ while your hands flew up to cover your mouth to force yourself and keep the bile down. Your gaze directed itself at the ground.

_Think of something else_ , you chimed in your head, but the flames mingled with the smell of burning flesh, tearing skin and muscles, the sound of breaking bones, and not even the thundering footsteps echoing from down the hallway could quite rip you from these thoughts. Strong hands held onto you and lifted you from your crumbled up position, hoisting you into his arms.

“Brother,” Thor spoke, voice low and seemingly controlled, “What happened?”

Your sight was blurred with tears and agony so you simply closed your eyes, only listening to the words being said. The noises distracted you from the turmoil raging inside of you, senses gradually shutting down with every second passing.

“Honestly—I do not know.” you heard Loki say, hearing the pretended indifference even though he was undeniably in an enormous amount of pain as well; judging by how his voice broke in the middle of his sentence while you heard a light chatter of teeth, a waver of his words.

With your head flush against Thor’s chest you felt and heard him take in a sharp breath, trying to stay calm next to his brother’s need to play apathetic.

“You do know that this—‘mere mortal’—saved you, right?”

He had heard your conversation?

“I cannot quite say much about the origin of it yet, but apparently there was something inside of you. This _child_ absorbed it to free you from its wicked grasp, do not _dare_ being disrespectful.”

You wanted to protest and say that you were technically an adult—but at this moment, scooped up in the arms of a god and being half unconscious—you indeed felt like a child.

“I did not want to listen in on your conversation, I really didn’t,” Thor spoke, remorse heavily weighing down his words, “But I cannot trust you. You know that.”

An immense flood of _**sadness**_ and _**sorrow**_ fell over you, so heavily it almost drowned the pain you felt in its twisting and turning waves.

It wasn’t _yours_.

It was _his brother’s_ , drifting all the way through the walls of his cell to you.

Your abilities were quite special, yes. But not even they were that powerful; Words, thoughts you could read across the distance. But without further concentration you shouldn’t be able to access someone’s consciousness and feelings, and you weren’t even focusing on— _Oh_.

The _blue_ thing.

That’s what it was.

Your important revelation was interrupted as you writhed in the god’s arms, feeling his grip tighten, blood pumping in your ears so much you almost didn’t hear Loki’s surprisingly soft reply.

“A wise decision.”

There was a smile being carried over with his sentence, but it just didn’t match what you felt radiating from him.

Unnecessarily and almost impossibly contradictory.

An ice-cold fire. A panchromatic film in color.

That’s what it was.

Thor merely continued on, not having felt what you did and simply taking his statement for what it was supposed to be; useless commentary.

“Why did you not simply answer? I know that whatever happened in New York was not you, Loki. I have known you for centuries after all.”

You felt him heave a breath before continuing, voice a bit quieter than before.

“Who controlled you, brother?”

There was a pause and you felt how your body and mind slowly started to succumb to the darkness—it was easier to let go than hold onto a world of pain.

A quiet huff of air escaped Thor in a sigh.

“I will have you know that we will depart to Asgard soon, to have this condition checked. Human technology cannot compete with ours and this incident seems to be of otherworldly origins.”

You barely felt as your body grew limb.

...

“ _Brother_ —“

This wasn’t just a light sleep out of exhaustion.

“What?”

It was definitely different.

“Oh no.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah Loki’s first actual appearance? You bet!
> 
> As always, thank you very much for reading!  
> Perhaps I should make these notes a thing so that you know how much I love you for it! :)
> 
> (Psst—The fact that some words are in bold / bold + italics holds a deeper meaning!)


	5. Escape to Extraterrestrial Realms

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The God of Thunder is adamant about his resolve to leave for Asgard.

The darkness wrapped itself around you like a blanket, coaxing you into resting; to stop thinking and worrying and to just—stay.

But you woke up.

And the agony you felt upon waking made you wish you hadn’t.

The blissful unawareness one had in their sleep was exactly what made you try to fall right back into it, yet your body simply refused to comply. Against your wishes your eyes cracked open, slowly trying and gradually adjusting to the blinding light which was only broken by the shape of a person seated next to you.

Soon the shape of a person turned into the shape of Thor; your eyes narrowly fell on his expression and immediately noted the sorrow contorting it. Just as you moved to heave yourself up, his hands shot forward to push you back down.

A _bed_.

You were in a bed. Were you in hospital?

Probably not; the sounds of machines hooked to your veins were missing with their melodious _beeping_ sound, which would no doubt have sounded like a blasting alarm this very moment had they actually been there. If your head hadn’t thundered like someone slamming against it as if you were but a mole in a ‘ _Whack-a-Mole_ ’ game, you would have tried to take your surroundings into account to figure out where you were. Or ask Thor.

But alas, you could only do as much as hiss in pain, your entire body cramping and burning and you doubted that any kind of medicine in the world could help you with it. Even believing in super-medicine from Thor’s home planet seemed like absurd and mere wishful thinking.

Once you felt general control returning, you gently placed your hands on top of Thor’s, signaling him that you were fine once more—as fine as circumstances allowed, for sure—all the while canning the pain like soup in different tins to store them neatly on a shelf.

_Yes_.

That imagery helped.

Now _where_ was the garbage disposal—

“Are you alright?”

He had not really relaxed despite your best attempts at seeming calm and okay. Your strained nod as an answer—not an _actual_ lie since you could haveindeed been worse, you mused—only added fuel to his worries.

“It does not seem like it,” he said and rose from his chair, face determinedly set on a decision, “We will depart at once. Before Fury manages to worsen your condition with his inquiry.”

You felt him gently lift you up and into his arms, steps carrying the both of you much faster than you expected with your half-closed eyes. His feet thundered along the tile floor in such rapid succession, steps echoing in the hallway so hurriedly you concluded you were indeed _sprinting_.

To god knows where.

“—Brother?”

Oh _there_ you were. The abundance of alien emotions was a telltale sign by now.

“We are heading home now, Loki.”

You vaguely saw and heard him give a chuckle in response. A lie, just like seemingly every other emotion coming from the alien-god so far.

“Are you not supposed to obey the orders of your new friends?”

“A life is at stake, this is no time for your jokes.”

You closed your eyes in exhaustion and pain, leaning your head against Thor’s chest and listening to what happened around you. Such as the door which seemed to have been opened, odd _whirring_ noises reaching your ears as confirmation of sorts.

“Oh,” Loki’s smooth, velvety voice spoke in an amused tone, sounding breathless as if in pain all the same, “—do you trust me enough to free me?”

“No.”

_**Hurt**_.

Yet he seemed to follow Thor—who most likely kept a keen eye on his brother—walking right beside him at a brisk pace, not faltering in his step. That was, if the _**distress**_ you detected was to be trusted.

It terribly bothered you how one could behave so very differently from their actual feelings, emotions and thoughts; bothered you even despite the condition you were currently in draining every little bit of your energy and focus.

Oh man, if you had just _not_ listened to your gut this _one_ time and went with your brain instead. Then you would have probably been sitting in front of the TV, watching some sort of shitty series or dumb movie with your best friend, who had most likely declared you missing if not dead by now. Or you would have been going outside to go sight-seeing—or not, considering the damage which had most likely occurred to New York. Perhaps, at the very least, live the adventure you had always wanted.

Well, _technically_ you were having more of an adventure right then and there than you could have ever dreamed of; two gods escorting you to another planet to try and keep your frail, _mortal_ body from dying.

——————

You opened your eyes to some sort of heated argument, only to find that you had most likely fallen unconscious for a good couple of minutes. Slowly regaining your senses you tuned back in to an animated conversation, voices sounding on the brink of snapping. It felt as if you had fallen asleep in front of the TV, only to find some kind of drama movie running on the loudest setting possible, words a warbled, deafening mess until the phrases separated and made sense to your confused mind.

Oh no, was that Fury’s voice? He seemed furious.

_Fury-ous_?

Whatever.

“—not just take a possibly dangerous person in the midst of our investigations. After all, through our questioning we might gain rare insights as well as access to unfathomable power.”

What were you, some sort of object?

“The child is barely of age in your Midgardian terms. And in addition to that, possibly _dying_.”

You were possibly _what_?

“We do have access to medicine and doctors of our own, God of Thunder.”

“Then why did you not yet attempt to help?”

With that your eyes finally opened wide enough to catch a glimpse of the shit going down right in front of you.

Fury kept holding onto a blue glowing cube secured in a glass container, which was, if you remembered correctly from the briefing Thor gave you before, _the Tesseract_. An important artifact of his world and the only thing capable of bringing him and Loki—and in addition to that, you—back to his planet. Sadly, Fury clung so tightly to it, you realized he wasn’t inclined of giving it up anytime soon.

Meanwhile Thor stood directly across from him, back turned to you as you were positioned behind him, almost protectively so. His eyes narrowed to an almost glare and his hammer was pointed accusingly into Fury’s direction as if threatening him. Or doing just that, actually.

Something moved ever so slightly against your side, something slightly shifting from its hold on your legs and back, eliciting a quiet, metallic rattle— _What_?

Wait.

Wait a minute.

If Thor and Fury were busy arguing and threatening each other, then who the hell was carrying you?

It wasn’t like you didn’t already know the answer; you just begged for it to not be true. And you continued praying even while you glanced up from your crumpled up position so cautiously, one would have thought you were trying to desperately sneak a look at Medusa without turning to stone—

Yes. Yes indeed, it was the face you neither expected nor wanted to see.

The god damned alien-god-princeling, eyes set to watch the argument unfurl with the ghost of a smirk lining his pale and sharp features. Only good thing about this was that he didn’t notice you _awake_ and _staring_.

Why was there no feeling of murder or rage pouring out of him? Were two attempts at your life enough or was he plotting another try right this instant, absent green eyes merely a ploy in making Thor and you believe it to be safe, letting your guard down until he would eventually strike?

Actually—regarding him from the tight hold in his arms—he almost seemed on the brink of fainting, smirk barely covering up his exhaustion while he grit his teeth behind his barely parted and surprisingly chapped lips. The breath easing out of his mouth was loud enough to ring in your ears, betraying his outer calm and collected but smug expression.

Perhaps he simply had better things to worry about than murdering you.

You swallowed the breath you were holding before it could leave your throat and alert him of your attention fixed on him, slowly directing your gaze back over to the scene unfolding in front of your eyes. The exhaustion hit you hard another time and you barely felt yourself drifting in and out of consciousness, pain growing numb as you failed to even properly register it.

That most likely wasn’t such a good thing.

“I have had enough of this. The Tesseract is not your property, neither does Loki fall under any of your Midgardian laws and the child is not even a citizen of America.”

“That _child_ ,” Fury interjected, mocking Thor’s choice of words, “Possesses immense, raw power, which is a gigantic threat to national, maybe even _international_ security in the wrong hands—but could undoubtedly be exceedingly helpful in missions to come.”

“Surely you must be joking. How should anyone be of help to you if you let them die?”

Thor’s voice had long since grown hard, heavily laced with a hint of hostility and your head snapped upwards as a strong gust of wind started blowing in everyone’s faces, white clouds turning as black as ink while a flash of lightning followed by a low rumble tore through the building tension.

“Fury,” he spoke, grip on the hammer in his hand tightening, “I do not wish to threaten you, but I would prefer it if you handed me the Tesseract this instant. Otherwise I will be forced to take it from you.”

For quite a while Fury’s eyes continued to glower at Thor, seconds almost audibly passing like the ticking of a clock as none of them wanted to cave in first. Until Fury squeezed a strained blow of air through his nose, shoving the glass canister containing the Tesseract into the god’s hands.

“Thank you.”

The clouds that had just appeared above your very heads vanished at the same speed they had emerged, until not a single trace of them was left. Might be rather useful for farming, your mind wondered, haze still thickly surrounding your brain and making it difficult for common sense and regular thought processes to prevail.

Until the thoughts _did_ break through.

Oh lord, he was _actually_ a _god_.

The God of Thunder, for real.

Honestly, while you did indeed believe him to be physically stronger and from another race residing on another planet; the god thing seemed a bit over the top—on Earth there were so many gods people believed in, so who would have thought that out of all of them at least the God of Thunder was officially proven to be real?

But if he was a god and his brother was too—what was his brother the god of?

Clutching the container tightly in his hand, Thor walked over to the two of you with heavy steps. Loki had barely moved a single muscle this entire time, staying so still you had sometimes forgotten that he was even there, holding you up.

You glanced up at him, barely in time to catch him wince just as another jolt of pain surged through your body. In that short moment his eyes showed nothing _fake_ ; only what he actually, truly felt.

_**Pain**_ and _**fear**_ , _**misery**_ and almost palpable amounts of _**terror**_ ; so much so that you felt your own eyebrows furrow by the mere remedy of what he experienced. But he hid it away as soon as he noticed, expression as cold as ice replacing his honest display of emotions and you couldn’t help but scoff at him when he stared you down with a glare in his piercing green eyes.

Just how and why could a single person be so _fake_?

You were ungainly shifted in your position when—with a rattle of the chains around his wrists—Loki used the hand under your legs to reach for the glass container his brother was offering. With a quick motion you tightly gripped his tunic due to the sudden movement and promptly countered his irritated groan with a grunt of your own.

Contrary to popular belief you could walk—

At that your nails almost threatened to bury themselves in his clothes, in his skin. He would have muttered some sort of complaint, you were sure—but he doubled over as well, torso arching over yours while he barely managed to catch himself as his labored breathing graced the top of your head.

“Brother—“ Thor exclaimed, reaching towards the two of you, but was stopped by his brother’s apparent death glare.

“I am quite alright.”

The blond’s eyes flitted to you and you merely nodded, biting down on your lip. With that he twisted a part of the container and you barely managed to catch a glimpse of blue light encasing the three of you before you were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was actually connected to the next one, but it would have been too long, oOPS.
> 
> Can you tell how much I love shitty puns and comparisons and metaphors?


	6. Of Monsters and Men

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The group arrives in Asgard much to the King’s displeasure.

With an effect that couldn’t be more accurately described as a _flash_ , the three of you reappeared in a chamber glistening and sparkling so much with gold you had to screw your eyes shut to ease the pounding headache. Spots and stars started dancing together right away to the melody of your thumping heart.

Or Loki’s?

Perhaps both—an even more elaborate dance to an unheard melody.

You felt your own body grow more unresponsive with every taken step, every inhale and exhale of a wisp of air, every beat of your pulse. In the arms of the irked god you started to writhe less and less, mind only focusing on getting enough oxygen into your lungs as your skin turned warm, almost hot and feverish.

“Welcome to Asgard,” a voice spoke, echoing through the rather small room you were perched into. Your eyes fell on a man clad in gold, almost blending in with the rest of the golden chamber, standing in the center of it all. There was a gigantic sword in his hands and you barely caught him as he cast a look full of disappointment at Loki.

_Ouch_.

Then his eyes fell on you, adapting a more sorrowful glance tinted with a hint of sadness. There was no surprise in his features, so perhaps Thor managed to call in ahead of time?

—Did they even have phones? Communication devices in general?

“I have informed the All-Father of your arrival. He does not know any details, simply that you bring a Midgardian with you who you have placed under your protection and who is in need of our aid.”

His voice was deep and calm as he spoke to Thor, orange eyes seeming to glow in contrast to his dark skin.

“Thank you, Heimdall,” Thor replied, his feet already carrying him out through the only entrance right on top of a rainbow-colored bridge and you vaguely heard the waves rolling beneath it, vaguely noticed the stars starting to break through the sky despite the remainders of daylight still shining in purple hues.

_A Rainbow Bridge_ —Somehow reminded you of Mario Kart.

Loki continued to follow next to his brother at a brisk pace, not faltering while his grip was tight, but surprisingly not uncomfortably so. You were still feeling tremendously unsafe with his scarily cold hands under your legs and around your back. Yet, at the same time you were sure you would actually notice should the alien-god plan anything crooked, all the while keeping tabs on his emotions.

But still, apart from **_pain_** and _**terror**_ —and perhaps a teeny tiny bit of _**annoyance**_ there was nothing.

“Thor, do I have to hold—“

“Yes, Loki,” the blond interjected without looking at him and you would have _almost_ felt offended at the princeling’s words—if you hadn’t rather been in Thor’s arms as well that is, “Unless you want to be the one to talk to Father instead.”

At that Loki fell quiet, almost eerily so as he stopped complaining and simply walked behind at a small distance, Thor walking at the front with the handle of his hammer placed tightly in his fierce grip. The blond seemed to be rather deep in thought, most likely occupied with getting prepared to hold a conversation with their father.

—The _King_?

Oh wait! Not just two Alien-Gods escorting you, but rather two Alien-God- _Princes_?

That realization hit much later than you would have ever thought possible.

The Alien part as well as the God part were much more groundbreaking than your exhausted mind gave them credit for, that was for sure. To your defense, your mind had probably simply not managed to actually wrap itself around the fact that two hotly debated theories were proven real right in front of your very eyes.

In stark contrast was the concept of royalty; something you knew existed, accepted the existence of and treated like an everyday existing thing. Which also meant that you knew what it basically meant to be around royalty, all the etiquette and strictly dictated behavior—Many rules you felt you had not followed so far.

Actually, there were probably quite an abundance of people who would switch places with you in but a moment’s notice—Perhaps not necessarily humans though, considering Loki had tried to annihilate them mere hours ago. Honestly, if anyone wanted to switch so very badly with you right now, they were more than just allowed to take your place.

Especially if it meant they would take all that pain you were feeling.

Yes. _This_ was the time for people who had always believed in aliens, gods, and were loyal fans of royalty.

By now you felt exceedingly awkward, utterly _embarrassed_ even, being in the arms of an Alien-God-Prince with your face flushed against his chest and unable to recoil even just the slightest bit, since keeping the pain you felt at bay drained so much strength it rendered you unable to move.

He didn’t seem to care much either way.

Apparently holding you was only the second worst case scenario, second _only_ to a conversation with his father. You almost wanted to laugh, but when you looked up at him you didn’t catch the sneer you expected, the look of arrogance and superiority on his sharp features—only the expression of someone deep in thought, slightly distressed but nothing else, nothing false.

Surprising even yourself you gave a slim smile at that.

With that last thought, barely hearing a set of heavy, golden doors opening up for you to pass through, you finally gave into the darkness which had long since been calling your name.

——————

Thor hurried up a flight of stairs, trusting his little brother to be right behind him as he pushed against all doors crossing his paths, slamming them open with a force battering rams could only dream of.

Mere minutes ago, Loki had informed him that you had fallen comatose and when he turned to look at his brother he found him to be nearly unconscious as well, with his feet almost tripping over each other, his breathing much too loud for someone usually as composed and controlled as Loki.

“Loki,” he had said, concern overshadowing his earlier annoyance, “I can help, I can—“

His brother had shushed him, almost running against a column in the process before catching himself, shifting you in his arms and continuing on along his path.

“No,” he had answered before falling quiet and scurrying along the golden, wide halls next to the Golden Prince in silence. Pride was a fragile little thing—especially so for his little brother.

With another fierce push the last set of golden double doors flung open revealing the healing wings of the royal palace. The people inside, the _healers_ inside were nearly going crazy as they spotted the two princes—out of which one had been presumed _dead_ until just now. They were buzzing around in a haste while Loki carefully and clumsily, due to the chains connecting his handcuffs, placed you on the Soul Forge, nearly collapsing himself in the process.

“Easy, brother,” Thor spoke, firmly placing his hands on his younger brother’s shoulders who recoiled ever so slightly despite the exhaustion obviously dragging him down.

Thor was barely in the midst of pushing his brother to get his own condition checked, when the heavy golden doors burst open once more, assortment of Einherjars rushing inside in a cluster and parting to reveal the King, his father. Fury emanated from every ounce of his being as he stepped forward with a glower so sharp and deadly, sharks would have cowered under his glare.

With a gentle shove to at least seat Loki down in a chair Thor turned to face the King, straightening before quick steps hurriedly carried him over—hoping to sort this entire predicament as calmly as possible.

“So this is the _mortal_ you have placed under your protection?” he all but growled, narrowing his eyes in a scowl directed at your unconscious form, “I had always thought that Jane would be the first—and _only_ —Midgardian to ever lay their eyes upon the glory of Asgard.”

“Father, now is not the time,” Thor spoke urgently, walking back to the machine and motioning for him to follow—which he didn’t, “They truly helped us in bringing Loki back to us and therefore I am indebted.”

Noticing that his father didn’t follow him, he added on,

“If it had not been for us meddling with Midgard, this entire situation could have been easily avoided.”

There was an obvious accusation in the tone of his voice, knowing that it had been the King All-Father himself who forced the ninth realm into everyone’s focus; stripping Thor off his powers and banishing him from Asgard to live on Earth.

Odin did not comment on his son’s nearly sarcastic allegation.

“If I have been informed correctly, you had wanted to leave for Midgard when Heimdall and Frigga caught a glimpse of Loki in their visions, discovering him to be alive and wrecking havoc.”

The king took an almost intimidating step closer to his adopted son, who was so terribly close to fainting he literally slumped in the chair he was positioned in as if dead, only his eyes moving to follow the entire ordeal. He had learned his place early—speaking the bare minimum to not at all whenever Thor and Odin were both involved.

“Then I must inquire as to why he is not thoroughly in chains, considering you were the one to propose his capture in the first place.”

Thor threw a quick, apologetic glance at Loki, wanting to tell him that this had been prior to the latest revelations, but his younger brother simply continued to stare at his advancing foster father, face unreadable as if made of stone. The blond pressed his lips into a thin line, thinking, before turning back around to his father.

“The situation has changed, father, he—“

Odin raised his hand into the air, effectively silencing him.

“No son,” he spoke, “Loki has proven more than once how dangerous he can be. What would I be for a king, if I do not ensure the safety of Asgard’s citizens?”

With a mere wave of his hand he summoned the Einherjars who had been waiting for orders, urging them to march their way to the young prince with fierce determination. It was terribly obvious they were siding with the All Father.

They yanked him from his crumpled up position on the cushioned chair into a standing position with such force that he stumbled into one of them and was pushed right off with a hard shove. The chains were replaced with similar ancient looking shackles clasped around his wrists as well as his ankles, old runes deeply edged into the sides to _completely_ bind and hinder his use of _seidr_ , his _magic_ , the hidden illusion keeping his appearance in check fading with a yellow to green glow and revealing the multitude of scratches, wounds, bruises and general sickness evident on his skin and in his hair.

The sight of Loki in such a weakened state was horrible for Thor; he knew that his younger brother had been feeling unwell ever since the incident, but it having gone to such length he had felt the need to hide it under one of his many glamours—the pale, almost white and clammy skin of his face, the sunken in eyes with dark circles around them, not to mention the redness of his eyes and sweat collecting on his forehead—

An Einherjar stepped up with the final piece of his restraints—a collar to restrict his movements even further, locking it around his neck so sharply that a strained wince escaped his throat. He couldn’t even glare daggers around as he had not an ounce of strength left within him, Einherjars forced to hold him up by his limp arms, lest he would have fallen to the floor.

Thor’s face spelled disbelief, face contorted in horror as he watched Odin walk past him without any regard for either of their well-being, army of soldiers pulling his younger brother behind with the silver chains clutched tightly in their hands. Loki could do nothing but stumble and grimace in agony as he tried to not fall, tried to keep whatever he felt was left of his pride.

“Father!” Thor yelled after him, “Surely you _cannot_ be serious—“

The King abruptly turned around.

“Oh yes son, I am indeed _very_ serious. Although I will accept your former request in keeping the mortal with us until the healing process is completed. After all it would paint us ill, should we object to helping the Midgardian who was harmed due to our incompetence at keeping our _prisoners_ in check.”

The blond was left behind dumbfounded, speechless and filled with terror as he watched Odin’s steps fading to walk out of the room, chains rattling with the occasional twist and pull as Loki fought to remain standing. He wanted to sprint after them, but felt uneasy in leaving you behind. So he took a few precautions, briefing the head healer Eir and her apprentice regarding your condition and explaining to them that they were to inform him immediately should there be any news.

Both of them nodded, while the younger one of the two, blue eyes contorted in sorrow, freckles on her dark skin not looking as vibrant as usual, watched the Prince storm off after his father, his facial expression betraying his frustration.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the King is even worse at parenting than in the movies??
> 
> Oh and if you want me to ruin something:
> 
> The part where Loki almost runs into the column and shushes Thor—I keep imagining it as a mixture between Loki shushing Thor in Thor Ragnarok and one scene in Big Hero 6 where Baymax is out of energy and trips on the stairs (See “Baymax Low Battery).


	7. Abrupt Awakening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You wake.

Light.

It was the first thing that pierced the darkness after it had kept you in the depths of its clutches for so long; little specs of light were starting to dance around in your vision in gold, in red, in blue—soft colors to calm your mind. Then a light buzz started to penetrate the quiet surroundings, ebbing and flowing like the tides with the moon. You welcomed the change, growing bored in the never changing void.

Sometimes you had felt like you were awake.

Catching glimpses of shifting blurs passing by but you were unable to respond as you felt a touch on your arm, your head and hair, your body—You tried to not dwell on it too much, rather focusing on the _thing_ you felt.

Yes, the entire time, there was _something_.

Something small, tiny; _infinitesimal_ even, pulling and tugging at the back of your mind like the strings of a harp being plucked by a gentle musician. It was faint but gentle, having been there since you had found yourself in the inky blackness and constantly reassuring you that you weren’t alone. A soothing warmth spread from it, easing the terror you felt at times when there was interaction with you that you couldn’t see, couldn’t reply to.

It reminded you of something you seemed to have forgotten, the feeling being eerily familiar somehow, though you couldn’t place it. But it felt enthralling, so very captivating but calming—and it almost seemed to push you to wake. Which is precisely why you decided to do so.

Your eyes opened just a crack.

You had no idea how much time had passed, for there had been no time in the void.

Colors were everywhere—most likely faces, blurry faces frozen still for a second before they seemed to run off somewhere, bustling around the room while you narrowed your eyes against the seemingly blazing light, burning your retinas even through halfway closed eyelids.

While the chamber was busy with life you started to carefully attempt to move your body; one finger, one toe after the other, until you could feel a tingly numbness in your arms and legs, moving on and focusing on regaining your senses, ignoring the voices chattering wildly around you.

You felt oddly refreshed despite having no idea where you were and what was going on. As if you were the Sleeping Beauty—having just woken from a long sleep and feeling as good as reborn.

And there was one thing you noted right away:

_There was no pain._

With a loud booming sound piercing the dull haze around your head almost agonizingly so, the heavy double doors got thrown open so intensely you thought they may as well fly right out of the doorframe holding them securely in place. You tried to crane your neck to search for the source but right the next second a face popped up in your field of vision.

Once the blur subsided you caught the incredibly relieved but somehow sad expression of a man, his blonde hair falling on his shoulders as he gave you a wide grin. You tried speaking his name, but no sound came out. Only a dry cough, which prompted one of the healers around you to carefully bring a glass of water to your chapped lips and making you drink, albeit with difficulty.

Thor’s feelings of sorrow were so strong, you accidentally mirrored them.

“How are you feeling?” he spoke.

A smile graced your lips at his genuine worry.

“Fine—”

Your voice died out even before the word had fully escaped your tongue, another fit of coughs ripping through the tense atmosphere.

You looked around, eyes narrowing in the light as you searched.

“Your—brother?”

In the blurry images you held in your mind the last thing you could remember was Loki holding you in his arms, your face pressed snug against his dark tunic while the look gracing his features was so— _real_. Nothing like the air of condescension which seemed to surround him on a daily basis.

Oh yes. That otherwise terribly pretentious behavior made you feel rather sick to the very core.

Thor appeared mildly distressed upon hearing your question.

You saw it, right past his light smile and his sincere features; there was a form of grief hidden behind all of that.

Your voice gave up completely, rendering you unable to communicate and instead prompting you to throw him the best confused and worried glance you could muster with your back pressed into the mattress below and your head only turned slightly to look at him.

Why could you not move?

With an almost desperate look you asked for more water, carefully letting it run down your throat in hopes of regaining your ability to speak.

“What’s wrong—?” The voice coming out of your throat was hoarse and frail, but you were relieved that you managed to get the words out nonetheless.

His facade cracked ever so slightly.

Maybe you didn’t really say these kind of things to an alien-god. Or maybe it was because of his prince part—

 _Or_ , per chance, because you were one of the few people that remotely bothered to look behind his very own facade of optimism and happiness to find what he was truly thinking, truly feeling.

“I will tell you when you are better,” came his reply.

Now that didn’t quite help in the slightest.

Wasn’t Loki just right here moments ago? What had happened?

“First we need to ensure your treatment,” a calm voice cut in, quick steps carrying the older woman over to stand next to your bed, “Your Highness knows better than to overwhelm your mind.”

Thor forced a laugh despite the tension, trying to answer the woman’s light smile in his own way.

“This is Eir,” he introduced with a smile that could have almost come across as honest and genuine, were it not for your overly sensitive ability to pick up on hidden emotions and feelings.

“She is Asgard’s head healer and has been tending to you since you fell ill.”

“—and I will continue until you are healed,” she added on, “Together with my apprentice Aldís that is. She is currently carrying out an errand for me, but will aid you once she returns.”

You gave a feeble nod, trying to work out your current situation by little bits and pieces of information they dropped. Sadly it wasn’t nearly enough to understand. Your eyes trailed Eir as she moved to collect something from a desk in a corner of the room, returning with a bag in her hands and giving a pointed look at Thor.

“I will leave you in Eir’s capable hands now.” he said with a smile, walking over to the golden doors, “I am glad to see you awake, but please get some rest later. I will return tomorrow morning.”

With that he was gone and your focus directed itself back at Eir, who moved over to you and carefully heaved your body into a sitting position.

“It is good to finally see you awake,” she spoke, opening up the bag and taking out an object which seemed to resemble a regular, grey stone, “You have been in a coma for quite a while.”

With gentle movements she crushed the stone with her bare hands, letting the resulting powder fall into a glass of water which she brought to your lips, prompting you to carefully swallow it.

“We were unable to administer it to you while you were comatose, since your body had been busy collecting its strength to prompt you to wake—the Healing Stone would have only overwhelmed you.”

You gave a strained nod and a confused glance, deciding to postpone your questions as you watched her close the bag back up before positioning you back so that you might rest.

“Tiredness is a side-effect. Please rest, the healing process works best while the body is relaxed.”

Eir pulled the red, velvet blanket up to your shoulders, quickly checking your vitals before turning to leave.

“I will be back in the morning.”

You barely heard her steps fade away—medicaments kicking in much faster than they probably would have compared to someone from Asgard.

“Thank you—“

Your whisper was quiet and frail, but she heard it nonetheless.

“It is no problem whatsoever.”

With a dull _thud_ the heavy double doors fell closed—and you laid on the bed in the darkness, falling right back into your thoughts. Your inability to properly talk hadn’t quite helped in coaxing out more information and it only frustrated you more; having to sleep but wanting to _understand_. You directed your gaze at the blackened ceiling, feeling your body sink into the mattress before your calm state was broken by a sudden revelation.

The revelation of what you had forgotten.

His brother. Loki.

The _memories_.

As if on cue something inside of you sparked with recognition; emotions entering, invading your mind. There was no pain, rather an odd warmth enveloping you and a vague hint of something scarcely painful scraping at the back of your head like a scratch you couldn’t reach—pain unable to properly break through.

But some memories came back, emotions.

The feelings of grief and dread, hatred and panic. Self-loathing and disgust.

The glimpses of an elderly man, a _**father**_ ; of falling into a void, leaving behind what once was a _**home**_ , but now held no further meaning—

And along with it came the feeling that whatever had happened to you was what you deserved.

With a trembling hand you reached for your face, only to find you were crying. All these memories—now that they were inside of you—felt like they _truly_ belonged to you. And always had. Even though you knew this wasn’t true. You used the back of your hand to carefully wipe the tears away, trying to control the sobs threatening to wreck your body—lest you alarm someone of your current condition.

It hurt so much.

The memories of a stranger hurting you so much.

Despite everything he had done to Earth and threatened to do to you; despite the fear you still felt lingering in your mind, impending to lash out whenever you saw him—

You couldn’t help but feel sorry. Terribly so.

Knowing that he couldn’t remember such undoubtedly important—judging by your reaction to it—events, leaving an inky blank space behind which had once been filled with information, with people, feelings and thoughts.

You definitely had to give them back as soon as possible—But first you should go and talk to him.

Finally giving in to the pull of sleep, you succumbed to the darkness.

——————

You couldn’t remember much from the dreams once you woke; only that they were rather vivid and filled with an odd sense of peace, a feeling of not being quite as _alone_ as you probably should have been.

As you stretched your limbs to shake the sleep still wound inside of them you halted in surprise. Eir was right, you were actually able to move again. Upon trying to flex your arms you found that they were not yet quite as they had been before, slightly tingly mostly, but still surprisingly moveable after however long you had been out of business.

—Which was _how_ long exactly?

Right in that moment the door opened, Eir entering with quick steps. You hurriedly pushed yourself into a sitting position and gave her a slim smile as she came closer to you.

“I see you are better,” Eir spoke, walking over and gently grabbing your wrist to check your pulse before pulling out a little hammer-like device and running some texts on your reflexes. It fascinated you that Asgardians seemed to run through similar procedures—or perhaps they only did so for humans. Perhaps Thor knew a bit about the human physique and passed on his knowledge to the healers.

Either way, there were still more questions sparking inside of your head and once she gave you a content nod, having finished her examination, your curiosity got the better of you.

“For how long was I unconscious?” you spoke up, confused glance directed at the healer stowing different devices away.

“For two weeks,” she replied placing another box into the drawer to her right.

Oh.

Okay, that explained just why exactly you had felt like utter garbage yesterday, why you had been unable to move and everything had seemed as if you were suspended in a tank filled to the brim with water. Suffocating and heavy.

“Okay, thank you—And what was that powder I had to swallow yesterday?”

It seemed like a great healing device after all—judging how you felt the day before you sure wished you had some of these with you at all times.

“These are Healing Stones—reserved for only the most urgent emergencies,” she started explaining, picking up the bag once more to get ahold of one, holding it out for you to see, “Usually they are for battles during war; crushed and immediately placed onto the wound. For internal injuries or similar predicaments it is possible to swallow the resulting powder with liquid; that is, as long as the person in question is still alive. Otherwise, they are useless.”

Your eyes trailed the Stone she held in her hands. It truly looked like a random stone someone had found on the floor; grey, plain and inconspicuous.

“They need to be utilized in an instant after having been crushed; otherwise they lose all of their healing properties. Unfortunately, they are rather easy to be broken.”

You nodded in fascination and watched as she carefully stowed them away, returning with a bowl in hand as well as another glass of water.

“You should eat something to regain more of your strength, and for that I have brought you some broth.”

You gave her an excited ‘Thank you’ before carefully starting to sip on the luckily not-so-boiling-hot-anymore soup, mouth curling into a smile at the taste.

She stood still for a moment, regarding you while deep in thought.

“I assume you may want to use the bathroom once you have eaten? Perhaps clean yourself a bit? While we have indeed taken care of you while you were comatose, there is only so much we could have done.”

That definitely explained the weird sensations you had while you had been unconscious. Your hand moved up to gingerly touch your hair, wincing at how greasy it felt. Biting your lip you tried to suppress a chuckle at the incoming thought.

_Must be how the Alien-God felt at all times._

You could almost see it in front of you; his completely stiff and unmoving black hair from before your coma. It honestly may have also been because of a ton of hair products holding it in shape, but sometimes the difference between greasy and styled was _miniscule_.

“I would love to, yeah.”

“Then I will prepare the bath for _you_.”

You blinked, watching her disappear through a door to your right.

A bath. Being prepared. For you.

A phrase that first needed to sink in for you to understand. Given the circumstances it made a lot of sense, obviously. But it still sounded rather nice to your ears.

Meanwhile you continued with your breakfast, lunch—whatever—drinking it up until the last drop was safely tucked away into the depths of your formerly almost growling stomach. Eir emerged soon after, helping you heave yourself out of the bed. Apparently these Healing Stones were one hell of a device, for you felt no pain whatsoever, and barely any to no strain in standing, moving or walking. After insisting that you were indeed fine to go alone—you only wanted a quick rinse after all—you entered, mind circulating around far more important things.

Having a talk with Thor as well as with his Princeling Brother.

The bathroom looked interestingly traditional and fascinatingly beautiful all the same, colored in mostly gold, orange and some red. Positioned in the corner was a big, marble bath; few Bubbles shimmering and swimming around in it and soap was neatly placed on a stand next to it for you to reach. In quick movements you stripped off your clothing, letting it fall to the floor and entered the bathtub. Against your very will you found yourself wanting to stay longer, trying to relax at least for a bit, for the water was warm and soothing.

Yet your mind seemed to run in circles. In circles over and over again, running wild thinking of the Alien-God.

Of Loki.

Of the _memories_.

Before you could dwell on it for too long you forcefully discarded the thought, eagerly scrubbing your hair and body with soap before rinsing it with water. It felt nice, the sensation of all the grease and dirt from the past days getting washed away, far away just like the emotions you tried to lock away in your mind.

 _Stop it,_ you scolded yourself, _Think of something else._

But even after getting out of the water, drying yourself off with a fluffy towel and desperately trying to get into the clothes that were neatly positioned on a hanger for you to grasp, you found yourself unable to fully avert your attention. You forced your mind to be caught by the task at hand, while you fastened the different parts of clothing to your body.

It was almost as if they had tried to give you clothing which resembled your own, but failed badly. At least it didn’t appear to be too traditional, pair of dark pants along with a simple sort of shirt, which was almost too long to be classified as such. Luckily there was also a nice, simple coat for you to wear. You already loved the fake sense of anonymity you felt it would give you, knowing that you—much to your dismay—couldn’t bury yourself in your beloved scarf and goggles any longer. It had been like your second skin after all; now this coat would have to suffice.

Once you got out of the bathroom your eyes fell on Thor, who was in an animated conversation with the brunette head healer, hands wildly gesticulating in rapid movements. Upon hearing the door creak both of them turned around and looked at you, Thor’s lips tugging upwards into a smile that only halfway reached his blue eyes.

“Thor!” you exclaimed with a bright smile on your face, watching as he sauntered closer and his smile turned more genuine at your optimism. There was a dark coat draped around his shoulders as well, and it honestly made him appear much less superior and more common; touchable and connectable in a way.

He spoke your name in return, giving a short, polite greeting. His hand patted your back as he got close enough and while your eyes caught his, an image out of the memories covered his face; expression overlaying filled with terror and your mind spiraled right back into the depressing thoughts of falling to your death by your very own choice.

His hands moved to be firmly placed on your shoulders in no time, your name repeated on his tongue in a state of mild panic.

“Hm?”

“Your face turned pale—We were worried.”

“Ah,” you thought it over, but just couldn’t get all of that out of your mind, so you opted for a direct approach, “Can you tell me what happened now? Can I speak to your brother?”

He fell silent at your sudden requests, weight slightly shifting from one foot to the other and you felt his hands on your shoulder tighten for but a split second before he released you from his grip.

“I—“ he paused, “Yes and—probably.”

Why the hesitation?

“Thor,” you spoke, voice adapting a rather serious tone, “What’s wrong?”

The way his glance cast to the side for a second, how his brows drew together on his forehead and a small frown graced his lips—It couldn’t be anything good if not even Thor managed go cast his usual optimistic demeanor over it.

“I will explain,” he said, gaze hushing over to Eir who nodded and retreated out of the room, golden doors falling closed behind her and leaving the two of you alone.

As much as you wanted to know and understand, the atmosphere felt so tense it almost made you reconsider your decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, some ‘world-building’ so to speak—I looked through so many references to get a general picture of how the body behaves after a coma and how people describe waking from it.
> 
> Luckily I found out some stuff about these Healing Stones, even though most of it is obviously made up!
> 
> I honestly can’t tell if I’m satisfied with how this chapter turned out, even though I rewrote it three times and edited it even more—
> 
> Next chapter has more Thor in it, and afterwards L O K I, soooo stay tuned ;)


	8. Brotherly Briefing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thor briefs you with the latest incidents.

The silence that befell the two of you reminded you very much of the one right after the interrogation on Earth—luckily it was broken rather quickly by the god with a deep sigh of something akin to defeat. His hands had already moved to rest in his lap as he sat on a chair positioned next to the bed you were settled on, head tilted to the side in thoughts while you shifted to sit a bit more comfortably.

In a way, Thor updating you on the latest incidents might as well have turned into some sort of tradition. The briefing he gave you was much more like a story—with his father as the antagonist. Well that was at least the conclusion _you_ had drawn from it.

Apparently his father Odin, the _King_ , had made the decision to lock Loki into their underground jail—where only the worst of criminals were being held, mind you—and Thor could but repeat how much he was in favor of such drastic measures as well as how much he had to say to that matter.

 _Zero_.

The answer to both questions was _zero_ percent.

Neither Thor nor his mother, the Queen, were allowed to visit Loki; you doubted his father would, judging by his rash decisions, meaning he was all alone down there for... _how_ long?

“How long is he supposed to be locked up?” you asked, tilting your head.

Silence once more weighed heavily down on you, your eyes widening as you caught him firmly biting down on his lips and avoiding your gaze. As if he himself didn’t want to believe what he knew.

“Forever,” he finally said and your mouth opened ever so slightly in a speechless gesture, words taken out of your throat leaving it dry with nothing but thoughts.

“ _Forever_?” you repeated as the words finally broke through the blockade in your throat, “Don’t you live...a lot longer than humans do?”

He nodded.

“Yes. A few millennia.”

If you had had any water in your mouth, you would have choked on it.

Your hand carelessly raked through your hair in distress; questions buzzing around your mind like bees in a beehive. Going to school already felt like torture to the active and adventure seeking soul, but literal millennia in a cell—without even your own family visiting you—

No amount of writing exams for hours on end or detention for days could even just moderately compete with that, yet it was the closest you came to understanding just what exactly was in store for the fallen god.

You sucked in a sharp breath and motioned for Thor to continue.

As if all of that hadn’t been terribly unfair enough—punishing someone for actions not entirely his own—Thor also did not fail to mention just how sick his brother had looked. That however you had seen him before falling unconscious was a mere illusion to hide the actual influence your abilities had had on him. It more or less surprisingly made you feel something.

What? _Pity_? _Sorrow_?

Against your better judgment his face reappeared in front of your mind; more specifically the genuine display of emotions he had shown for but a split second before it turned right back into a snarl, an expression to mask himself, protect himself perhaps.

From _what_? And _why_?

All the while your face grew more and more grim, trying to follow all of which had happened while you were out, as well as trying to understand the weird feeling bubbling up in your chest. Looking at the blond you felt the memories well up inside of you once more—as if your body knew they weren’t yours and tried to push them out, sadly just managing to push them into your awareness instead.

You were _not_ going to tell him about his brother’s memories. At least not _yet_. Not if you didn’t absolutely feel like you had no other choice, no possible method in solving this entire predicament yourself. He seemed troubled enough and you didn’t want to add to that.

“The Soul Forge,” he continued, pointing to a ‘bed’ to the far corner of a room aligned with the one you were in, “Analyzed your body while you were unresponsive. There was—“

He paused, preparing himself.

“There was nothing to be found. Nothing _hostile_ at least. Nothing we could remove.”

Your hands buried themselves into the red blanket which had been placed on top of you, keeping you warm.

“Though we did find a few traces of the power of the Infinity Stones coursing through your body,” he continued, a light frown gracing his face, “This may be due to whatever it is you absorbed from my brother, or, perhaps even the very origin of your abilities.”

He moved to sit more comfortably in the chair he had pulled up, crossing his arms on his lap while he watched your still shocked face merely arch an eyebrow. So he went to explain.

“The Tesseract and the Scepter both hold an Infinity Stone each. These gems are made out of the very fabric of the universe; the Tesseract holds the Space Stone, allowing the wielder to access inter dimensional travels, while the Scepter holds the Mind Stone, apparently allowing the abilities to influence and control minds. Just like you.”

Thor let you have a moment to digest the news, before continuing,

“You do not remember the actual origin of your powers, do you?”

You shook your head, numbly, thinking it over all the way back to find just a _trace_ of something that could help you understand. But there was nothing to be found. No one had ever mentioned having noticed any of your abilities in the first place, much less shared any possible explanations regarding their existence.

“It is our theory that both—that is the energy you absorbed, as well as your own abilities—might be connected to the Mind Stone. After all it had disappeared for quite some time until a month ago. Enough time to be somewhere on Earth and perhaps be responsible for your powers.”

“ _Our_ theory?” you asked, weakly; barely managing to keep up with all the new theories and revelations. In all honestly you had never questioned your abilities much. You had figured out early that there were enough people so very terrified of abilities such as yours that they were ready to go to extreme lengths to keep the individuals in question away. So you never confided in anyone, never asked anyone questions; just quietly lived with it and hid it.

He nodded to answer your question.

“ _Us_ , that is Eir, her apprentice Aldís and even my mother, Queen and All-Mother Frigga. She had visited you on the day you fell unconscious to help with finding out more about your condition. After all she has been brought up by witches, is well versed with magic and is generally very knowledgeable.”

His mother truly sounded like a sweet person—quite the contrary to her husband—having tried to help you right on your first day. Too bad her first impression of you had been in a comatose near-death state. It felt embarrassing to know that the Queen had seen you like this, all dirty and still slightly bloodied from the attack on New York.

“My brother,” he continued, tightly rubbing his hands together as if to distract himself, “My mother and I had not been allowed to stay during his trial, for my father had forbidden us further contact right away.”

He reached forward almost agonizingly slowly, gently grabbing ahold of your wrists which were placed on top of the blanket; ready to offer him support in case he needed the physical contact to properly express what he wanted to say.

“While we are not allowed to visit him, my mother was able to use her magic to cast herself into his cell as an apparition in secret. She told me that he had been in a terrible state after you fell ill. He had been trying to hide it with another illusion once his shackles were taken off, but alas, our mother can see through them.”

Catching the almost uncharacteristic look of horror on your face, he added on, “Although, lately he has started to feel better.”

Uncharacteristic _yes_! That princeling had tried to _murder_ you—

Yet, that all probably happened while he was being manipulated. You weren’t exactly sure; it was more of an observation, an educated guess as someone who had at least some sort of knowledge regarding the field in question.

Also, he had _indeed_ carried you despite obviously being in just as a bad condition as you were. Thinking back he at least hadn’t tried murdering you since the incident. He could have also merely dropped you on the floor like a cockroach of sorts and blamed it on his own condition or something.

“What I meant to say is—I am and forever will be immensely grateful to you for helping us in catching and saving my brother,” his grip on your wrists tightened ever so slightly and you let him, “With whatever you absorbed from him gone, the rest now lies in his own hands. And we can only hope for him to make the right choices.”

The tiny something in you grew warm, almost hot and brought up tiny flashes of alien emotions and glimpses of faces, which you more than just quickly but subconsciously buried in the far crevices of your mind.

“After all your help, it just saddens me to know that I cannot help you.” he said, remorse heavily tainting his words.

You smiled, shifting your arms so that your hands were placed on his palms instead of your wrists.

“And I’ll be forever grateful that you took me here and tried to help me.”

His eyes still seemed immensely worried, looking at you with a sad gaze and you just continued to lightly smile, clearing your throat and taking a sip of water to try and wash the slight dryness away.

“Hey. Please don’t look so down—I’m feeling perfectly fine.”

Your definition of perfectly fine didn’t take the memories and emotions into account that kept bubbling up within you; but perhaps you would find a way to hand them to the Prince soon enough. Somehow.

Luckily, your sincerity seemed to ease his mind.

“Hey, Thor?” he looked at you with a light tilt of your head, your hands moving to fumble with the soft blanket in your lap, “I guess I’ll have to leave soon, right? From what you told me your father wasn’t all that happy...”

He gave a slightly mischievous shrug.

“My father said you could stay until your ‘healing process is completed’,” he repeated the king’s words with little air quotations of his hands and a light smirk on his lips, prompting you to offer a soft laugh, “And we didn’t quite find a way to _heal_ you from whatever it is you absorbed, so you may stay until further notice—Also, Eir and Aldìs would be mad if you were to be sent home so shortly after waking up.”

His grin turned even wider as he went on.

“For that occasion we—that is Aldís and I—have already prepared a guest room for you. You can stay until you feel healthy enough to leave.”

The fact that he cared so much really put your mind at ease, but the lingering thought of heading home suddenly struck both happiness and terror in your heart. There was no doubt that Fury was already waiting for your return; he had found you out, found out what you could do. And no one was as trusting and open towards someone with these abilities as Thor was.

No one else could possibly be like that, right?

You even still doubted that Thor was so willing to ignore what you could possibly do to him and everyone around. At least the chance to find people like this were terribly slim and your eyes almost filled with tears once you noted that the place of your _home_ was now also ultimately the place of your _doom_ —

“That’s—that’s lovely Thor, thank you,” you said, forcing a smile on your face despite the fear nagging at your brain. The very thought was immediately drowned in the depths of water that was your mind, pressed under the surface until it vanished. You would eventually cross that bridge when you came to it. Worrying now only made things worse.

“So,” you tried to pick up the other reason for your conversation, “Your brother—“

In the midst of the sentence you stopped, collecting yourself and swallowing the lump that had formed in your throat.

“You said you can’t visit him, but can I? I still didn’t manage to ask him all my questions. Since I fainted last time.”

The words of your sentence dragged out as your voice had quieted down, almost embarrassed on behalf of your request. There were _so_ _many_ questions left regarding the memories and the sensation you felt at all times; like not being alone, some sort of warmth, some sort of company—

Did he feel it too?

Your gaze fell on your lap for a second, before looking up and seeing how the Golden Prince only gave a slim smile. It made your fears subside slightly at least.

“Of course,” he said, pushing himself to stand, “Judging by your eagerness I assume you want to do it right away?”

You nodded almost too enthusiastically as you pushed yourself to stand, directly tripping over nothing as if forgotten how to properly walk. Your muscles were okay, you knew that. It just felt weird. A slightly tingly feeling in your limbs, as if they were asleep, still. Thor was next to you in a second, holding you to keep you from falling.

“Do you want me to carry you?”

You shook your head hastily, feeling control ever so slowly return to your body as the world gradually came to a halt. Your mind was buzzing with questions; your body just couldn’t keep up with your energetic spirit.

He gave a content nod as he regarded the clothes you wore, the ones which Eir had previously placed in the bathroom for you to take.

“My mother has helped in collecting the clothes for you to wear, I see they help you blend in quite well,” he said, stroking his barely existent beard stubble with a quick gesture of his hand, “While many people are informed of a Midgardian among them, it will most likely cause less confusion as well as attention.”

You smiled, hand carefully clutching and pulling the sturdy fabric tighter around you and your body.

———

He still stayed close, just in case your body would suddenly fail you. Perhaps there simply weren’t enough studies of Healing Stones used on humans to call upon for reliable practical value, and so you let him lead you—presumably—to where his brother was located.

As you followed along, you couldn’t help but be absolutely astonished by the monumental hallways, the elegant engravings carved into the stone as if into wood, murals of what appeared to be Asgard as well as stylized portraits of the royal family littering the walls. The path was brimmed with gold, every hallway supported by endless rows of massive stone columns and scarce openings showed the beautiful view to the new realm below.

Catching a burst of curiosity you spoke up, shifting his attention over to one of the many balconies littering the openings, asking him to possibly move over so that you could gaze down. He gave a booming laugh at your enthusiasm and complied, quick steps bringing you closer to the much anticipated view.

The sight you met with was not what you could have imagined in your wildest dreams; you were so high up your gaze overlooked the entire city, sunlight being reflected by the massive amounts of gold littered around the entire world. People were walking around, seeming as small as ants and there were just so many of them you couldn’t help but wonder how they deemed all of this normal—normal enough to not spare it a second glance as they minded their own business.

Having satisfied your thirst for knowledge of the unknown realm, you continued and descended more and more into the depths of the palace. It reminded you of how Thor had led you to his brother back on the weird ship-thing from Fury; technically it was quite similar indeed.

Only that the surroundings were much more fascinating to look at with its enthralling architecture, which was luxurious and humble all the same and you walked alongside Thor with a star struck gaze directed at everything around you, barely remembering to think of the severity of the situation.

What were you even going to say?

Would this encounter end the same way? You being unconscious?

Oh, hopefully _not_!

After quite a few more minutes of strolling around the infinite hallways you came to a halt right in front of an entrance, which was positively jail-y looking—some sort of soldiers carrying weapons and straight expressions guarding it as if their life depended on it. Their faces held a hint of distrust and you forced yourself not to flinch.

“Our guest wishes to pay a visit to the Prince,” Thor spoke, posture straightened and his head held high, voice carrying his authority. The guards shared a look of further confusion but obeyed their Prince, stepping aside.

He threw you a curt nod as he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“Are you certain you can and want to do this?”

“Yes,” you spoke without hesitation.

“Then _please_ , take care.”

With that he let go off you and you gently straightened your back as well, summoning all remnants of your faltering confidence, before leaving for the darkness of the dungeons below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or alternatively: Thor serves the tea
> 
> Aldìs! Yay! One of the three characters I’ve created for this story in case you’re wondering! :D
> 
> I wanted to write so much in this note but I forgot everything—oh well  
> Maybe I’ll add it later!


	9. Conversation Spiraling out of Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another conversation with the Prince.

The dark walls seemed to seep with desperation and frustration, timid yellow light emanating and brightening the staircase spiraling downstairs laid out in front of you. Whatever that light was it seemed to function as one of the dungeon’s only light sources, for you merely detected smaller bits of fire roaring in golden bowls in the corners at times. Only few guards passed you as you practically tiptoed your way through the hallways, yellow to orange cape fastened to their golden armor and flowing behind as they walked, golden horns catching some of the yellow glow in their shiny appearance. These helmets looked rather similar to what the Alien-God wore when you first saw him on the news.

Your shoes continued to make soft noises against the ground carved from stone before you came to a halt once the cramped alley made way for a gigantic, wide room. You were overwhelmed by the sheer amounts of prisoners locked into the cells, often more than one huddled together in one. The frames were made of engraved stone with a shimmering yellow barrier filling in the holes like window panels—one cubicle looking just as bland and empty of any kind of furniture as the next, while the inhabitants only appeared to get more dangerous the further your eyes travelled along. The white walls surrounding the inmates on the inside probably didn’t help in keeping their sanity intact.

A few more guards were stationed somewhere in the long hallway which led across the entire room; a middle path through the rows of prison cells lined up to the edge of the hall. Two were keeping watch on the entrance you just stepped out of and you gave them a timid smile on the way, before walking further into the open space.

“Hello again, **_Little One_**.”

You whirled around to meet the owner of the familiar and calm, but slightly irritated voice, standing face to face with the black haired Alien Princeling, only separated by a dim glow—the barrier encasing the engraved pillars. His posture seemed as princely as always; up straight with his hands folded neatly behind his back and a look of utter superiority gracing his sharp features and pale complexion. With a tilt of your head you noted his clothing to be different, something more akin to a dark green bathrobe of sorts with a leather coat over it. Perhaps the leather part was slightly familiar—looking as if merely stripped off of the golden armor parts. The metallic, ancient-looking shackles were also gone from his wrists and you couldn’t say you missed the rattling noises they had produced at times.

Apparently his cell was the only one with any kind of furniture whatsoever. There was a bed placed in the far right corner, something that resembled a washing basin to the left, a chair and stool in the middle as well as two tables with a book placed on top of one—many more collected and stacked in another corner.

At least it was halfway acceptable looking. Better than nothing.

“Hi again, _Alien-God_.”

If he was belittling you with that stupid nickname of his, you would surely return the favor. It seemed to work, for you noticed with a veiled grin how his expression had grown even more dark for a split second. Apparently you had hit a nerve.

“Now, to what do I owe the **_honour_** of your _**presence**_?”

The sarcasm was heavy with this one you grimaced, shifting your weight from one foot to the next in hopes of distracting your nerves. Calm steps brought you around the corner of his cell to stand slightly more secluded, being agitated by the guards mere existence.

You collected your thoughts before responding,

“ _You_. You still didn’t answer all my questions.”

“Oh, have I _**not**_?”

His gaze turned to the side for a moment, look of utter annoyance crossing his face before his green eyes returned to stare at you with a light tilt of his head.

“If answering your questions means that you will further leave me alone—Fine. What is it you wish to know?”

There was a certain way his inner mind screamed at you with a feeling of **_loneliness_** and fearing to be _**abandoned**_ ; it made you bite down on your lip, resisting the urge to call him out on his contradictory behavior.

“I want to know,” you spoke, voice clear with curiosity as well as determination, “I want to know what happened.”

“I am afraid you will have to be more specific,” he responded, shifting in his stance to stroll around his cell with calm, deliberate steps. His hand reached to elegantly sweep his fingertips over the cover of the book lying on the wooden table to his left, golden font adorning the cover reflecting the light as he regarded it with barely a hint of interest.

You took a step closer to him, annoyed by his apparent need to make you feel irrelevant and dispensable.

“What was it that made you attack New York?”

He paused, by now standing almost exactly in the middle of the room with his back turned to you and you noted how his hand twitched ever so slightly, how he seemed to take in a deep breath before answering.

“I was merely claiming my birthright.”

The words he spoke were deep, controlled. As if he had recited them over and over in his head, perhaps to reassure himself of the truth in it—a truth you _refused_ to find.

“Certainly not.”

Your voice matched his in level, almost taunting him to show you his real face—who was he beneath all of that confidence? The mixture of apathy and ignorance, of indifference and disgust.

“Earth has _nothing_ to do with you and your possible birthright—“

“I was a _**king**_!”

His entire body whipped around so quickly your mind could barely process it and his yell shredded the otherwise calm atmosphere of the dungeons below the kingdom so harshly, you feared the nearby guards to arrive and drag you right back out.

But nothing happened.

Yes, the _dungeons_. A disastrous place leaking of distress and devastation—a place to hide away the monsters created over the course of decades, millennia and eons.

You watched the furious expression of the prince as he stood before you, black hair clinging to his face as his ragged breathing tore through gritted teeth, a clenched jaw.

“Not of _Earth_.” you replied, bringing your face closer to the barrier separating you.

By now, being so very close to his face you noticed that his jaw looked almost as if on the brink of snapping; air blowing out of his nose in aggravated puffs as he apparently tried to calm himself. You watched as his posture relaxed slightly, a smirk replacing the grimace on his lips.

“I would have almost been—And it would **_not_** have hurt you, rather benefitted your _**rotten**_ kind.”

“I strongly beg to differ, oh _glorious king_ ,” your voice had turned into a sneer, mocking him with how you imitated his tone and dragged his beloved wanna-be title into the very dirt, “Seeing how you murdered most of your new _almost subjects_ on a _whim_.”

“These people were but discardable obstacles in my way,” he continued on, words sounding just as forcefully strung together before pressing his face closer to the yellow glow separating you, mirroring your enraged movement and staring you down with his intense glare.

That was not all there was and you knew it, you felt it. From what you had heard, most of the deaths were at the aliens’—the Chitauri’s—hands and your mind immediately shifted back to his memories, back to when you made him recall your first encounter. How there seemed to be _something_ in the back of your head, cutting in and correcting you. Correcting _staff_ with **_scepter_** , _murder_ with _**incapacitate**_ and _fury_ with _**panic**_ —

Still, your very own fury at his seeming indifference outweighed the need to understand whatever the loving hell that meant, your own emotions outweighing the unknown corrections. _Indifference_ —regarding the human lives which had been involved, involuntarily involved. People had died, you had heard some of their last cries and they echoed in your head right this moment as the same terror you had felt back then coursed right through you once more.

 _Indifference_.

Even your very own life had been in danger; if the scepter hadn’t managed to kill you, the knife still had had the chance. He just missed his chance.

You clenched your hands to fists and opened your mouth for a shout.

“You almost murdered _me_ too— _sorry_ for my strong sentiments!”

There was a sudden pause, green eyes trailing your face. Once more you felt the conflict raging within him, the turmoil turning and twisting his insides; but the smirk that didn’t seem genuine in the least made you toss all your feelings of probable regret and pity, sympathy and whatnot right out of the window.

“I can’t believe I felt sorry for you.” you said, before a sudden laugh ripped out of your throat in exasperation and interrupted you.

“I mean—sorry for _what_? New York? Your punishment?”

You turned your face to the side, refusing to meet his gaze and glancing at the stone wall instead, following the engraved lines with your eyes while crossing your arms over your chest.

“And of whatever these stupid _memories_ of yours are.”

There was another pause and when you looked back over to him, you caught him narrowing his eyes at you.

“Memories?”

“Oh right,” you said, “You can’t remember.”

For some reason you had enough playing nice with him. Honesty was your strong suit; an important quality of yours as well as one you valued in others, and seeing him still trying to mask everything, despite you feeling his outer behavior to be horribly false deeply struck you as frustrating. It felt like an umbrella not opening while you were standing in the pouring rain, toast falling onto its buttered side whenever it fell no matter from which height—

There was a hint of a burning twinge welling up from within you, but you carried on, far too deep in rage and a tiny amount of fear to stop yourself from giving in to the fuel.

“It’s one of the reasons I wanted to talk to you. But as it is, helping you isn’t my priority anymore.”

Taking apart everything you had just said would make for another day.

Your _priority_? Since _when_?

“These memories of your brother and father—

“ _ **Useless**_ memories then?” he interjected, an expression which held both characteristics of a smirk and a snarl gracing his slightly opened mouth and lips.

“You say that as if they have never loved you—“ you halted, remembering his father’s hostility, “—Like your _brother_ has never loved you.”

“My brother _**never**_ loved me,” he all but spat against the barrier, teeth bared in a growl as he glowered at you. Enormous amounts of rage as well as deep grief were dripping from his words and posture, even in the way his eyebrows twitched and knitted on his forehead, the way his eyes moved around in short, abrupt movements.

“Oh sure he does. I know it because I’ve seen it.” You took a deep breath to calm yourself while bits and pieces of the memories mixed with what you had seen in Thor mere minutes ago.

“Because I’ve felt it.”

He turned around as if considering to pace through the room, hands clenching and unclenching tightly into fists before his attention directed itself at you once more.

“Then— _ **per chance**_ — tell me why he had shoved me down the Bifrost Bridge? Why he had attempted to _**murder**_ me while I had poured everything I had into saving this wretched realm?”

“He didn’t push you! He tried to keep you from letting go!”

The memory replayed right inside your mind while you fought the underlying hint of fire under your tongue, burning you as you spoke.

“You are _**lying**_. I _**do**_ remember the memory you are referring to—I still hold it. It was not nearly how you described it.”

Silence.

Everything was still as his words rang through your head and lingered in the room suffocating you—like walls inching closer in adventure movies—suffocating you with its implications.

_Him_? Accusing _you_? Of _**lying**_?

Apart from the fact that this could not possibly be more _false_ —regarding your high value of honesty—it also couldn’t be _possible_ in general. Even though precisely controlling your abilities wasn’t exactly your expertise, you knew he couldn’t have them anymore because you _took_ them. The fact that he was unable to remember your first actual encounter was enough proof of this theory.

You tried your best to keep your voice calm as you spoke,

“I’m not lying.”

His expression was pointed as he stood almost agonizingly still, face barely a hair’s length from the barrier separating you, eyes boring into you. A rough breath escaped his parted lips in a shudder without his look fraying from yours, drop of sweat running down his oddly pale skin.

“Oh I _**know**_ that you do. I am the _**God of Lies**_ for a reason.”

Every word was pronounced carefully, forcefully separated from each other as if he tried to mock you in not understanding the meaning behind it. As if pretending he was speaking to a mere child.

You felt desperate, so very truly desperate, stress twisting your mind into little knots while you uselessly fumbled and twisted to break them apart. With a hurried motion your hand gripped into your clothes to suppress the sudden burst of agony surging through you like lightning split the sky above, practically clawing at the fabric as if wishing to hold onto your beating heart to coax it to rest.

“I’m _not_ lying. Listen Loki—“

“Do _**not**_ call me by my first name, _**mortal**_ ,” he cut through your words like a sharpened blade and you fell silent in an instant, “If I were not contained in this cell, I would _**murder**_ you were you stand—“

His speech didn’t even manage to stab you like he had intended as a wheeze tore through his words, hand flying to his chest and clutching the green fabric covering it. At the exact same time you fell to your knees mirroring him, molten lava running through your veins rendering you unable to communicate. Your vision blurred with salty tears, dark specs dancing around to the rhythm of your beating heart, the melody of the painful groans coming from the Prince and your labored breathing mingling together, while you took on a fetal position on the ground. Fingers pressing themselves into your stomach as if it would cease the agony.

_It_ burned you. From inside out.

Your thoughts ran wild before dying out completely, before your body fell limp.

Before you fainted and succumbed to the darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, yes. Loki in a chapter? Yes.
> 
> I can only hope I did him justice—It’s difficult even for me (as the person writing this) to try and understand his complex mind, haha!
> 
> I’m kinda sorry for the Reader fainting so often, but what do you want to do against it, I mean—


	10. A Chaotic Change of Plans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discussion with Thor regarding Loki’s taken memories.

‘ _If I were not contained in this cell, I would **murder** you were you stand_—‘

You woke with a jolt, reverberation of his words echoing through your mind as if caught in an empty room; bouncing from one wall, from one corner to the next, over and over and over.

By now they indeed struck like a blade.

A groan escaped your throat as you moved to sit, finding yourself resting on a bed once more, Thor next to you with his arms folded on the mattress and his head placed on top with his eyes closed.

For how long had he been sitting here, waiting for you to wake?

He shifted once you had moved, quickly jolting upright in his chair.

“Forgive me, I must have fallen asleep.”

You lightly patted his shoulder before heaving yourself up into a proper sitting position as well.

“No no, I’m sorry for worrying you,” you said, voice laced with guilt for keeping him occupied, “I’m okay now, really.”

The look on his face turned more serious as you caught him straightening further, apparently mentally preparing for another round of questions before he finally spoke,

“Would you mind telling me what happened?”

In but a second the echo of Loki’s words rang through your head again, like the sound of a chinese gong resonating through your entire body, causing a shiver to crawl over your skin and goosebumps to arise. Thor’s eyes were still locked on you and you quickly tried to catch yourself, compose yourself and stow the memory of the Prince’s words far away.

The silence started to stretch between the two of you until Thor decided to break it, clearing his throat.

“Fortunately, the guards had found you rather quickly,” he said, “They brought you up to Eir, who had called on me as soon as she had stabilized you.”

“—Thank you,” you spoke as you found your voice, sorrowful smile twisting your chapped lips, “For your worry and help.”

The blond gave a curt nod, but continued to look at you with concern lining his features, obviously waiting for you to explain what had transpired.

“He...He didn’t do anything if you’re wondering about that,” you said, running a hand through your hair and finding it tangled, “It’s just...just—“

You were at a loss for words, mind running wild in trying to find a method of explaining everything going on in your brain at once. With an exasperated sigh tearing through your mouth you put your hands up to your face, trying to ease the nervousness trailing your body away with a rub.

“Back at the Stark Tower. When I crashed through the window—“

Your eyes were glued on him to gauge his reaction, to collect the strength to continue explaining. You had to tell him. _Now_.

“I accidentally took a memory of his. Three.”

 _No_.

“Four,” you corrected, remembering the one of your first encounter and averting your attention from Thor’s face to the pattern lining the blanket as you noticed his shocked expression.

“I didn’t want to do this, really. I’ve never used my abilities that much out of instinct either...I barely have any experience, I—“ you paused, thinking, “I want to ask you something. There is a memory—and I want to know how you remember it. If that’s okay.”

“Yes. Of course,” his voice sounded calm, but you knew better.

“Okay.” Your hand found its way back to your hair, lightly tugging on it in anticipation, trying to ease the tangles.

“So, you were both there,” you continued, “It was dark, night most likely. You were on that...Rainbow Bridge outside. It’s uh—a very important memory of his, so—“

“Yes,” Thor’s voice cut through yours, “I do remember.”

“What...What happened?”

It hurt you simply to ask this question. You were most likely correct with your assumption, but you needed to know for sure—Loki had seemed so terribly certain, it weakened any belief you held in your abilities.

“We fell,” Thor began, own hands intertwining on the bed and you watched him as he explained; how his absent gaze was directed at a point seemingly far away, how his lips seemed to tremble in a miniscule movement, how his eyes twitched with unshed tears, reddened and glassy.

“Our father had caught us in the last moment. My brother, Loki, he—He was terribly devastated. I wanted to keep him from doing it, but I couldn’t. He let go. I should have known better, I should have—“

“Thor,” you interrupted him, placing your hands on his arms, “None of this is your fault.”

He was living through the experience of losing him another time and you couldn’t blame him, for as he talked about it you did as well—only with Loki’s feelings twisting your mind, Loki’s emotions from back then feeling like your own. You barely caught the tear rolling down your cheek, not having noticed that you had shed it before you hurriedly wiped it away with the back of your hand.

“Yes,” you continued, voice coming out of your throat much weaker than you would have thought, “That’s exactly how I _remember_ —“

You paused.

“How I _see_ it too. But he—“

Your mind fell back on Loki’s enraged expression, the terror, grief and anger in his voice and posture.

“He doesn’t.”

Thor was quiet for a while, still looking at his lap before his head tilted back and he gazed at you with a purely blank expression. As if the implication of your words had yet to ring through.

“What?”

With more strength than you had intended you bit down on your lip, feeling a metallic taste spread on your tongue and inside your mouth.

“He thinks you’ve pushed him.”

The words felt like a stab coming out of your mouth and you were certain they felt even worse to Thor; the knife in the back coming from a well trusted friend—That might have just about equaled half the agony he had felt. You could practically feel and see the knife protruding from his chest.

“...I would _never_ —“

“I know,” you interrupted him right there, “I know you wouldn’t.”

“—How?”

Your hands—long since clammy with fear and dread—played with the blanket covering your legs, drawing little patterns on it as well as clutching it at times to keep your hands busy.

“I think that whatever happened to your brother goes deeper than we thought. It’s not just...manipulation as in twisting his mind to make him evil and insane,” you spoke, keeping your eyes on trailing the pattern adorning the blanket, “I think something, or _someone_ messed with his memories. Gave him false ones and locked his actual ones inside of him, and when I—“

You had started gesticulating, trying to aid yourself in untangling the mess of thoughts and theories in your head.

“—And when I absorbed whatever that thing was back in the Stark Tower, I unlocked whatever held his memories in place. And took some of his.”

But just who might that someone be? Who would gain anything by this terrific act of invading someone’s privacy? Changing what someone remembered about their own life, what made them who they were?

 _Yes_. You hated yourself for your abilities at times like this, hated them for what they were, making you feel barely any better than the person who caused this predicament. Thor’s eyes were boring into you, but you refused to look up. He surely looked like a kicked puppy—nothing you felt your heart could take at the moment.

“He—He doesn’t listen. He doesn’t listen Thor, I’ve tried. I’ve tried to explain but he didn’t let me, he doesn’t believe me.”

Another silence befell you as the both of you fell deep in thought, mulling over what you had found out. The dread hung above you like clouds darkening the blue sky, tearing you down with its rain; the knowledge of Loki’s unfortunate situation plaguing your lives.

“What can we do?”

Thor’s voice seemed emotionless at best, but you heard the slight shift which made him sound quieter, softer. It was a truly tiny shift, but you had practiced noticing just that in people for as long as you could remember, to refrain from using your abilities whenever the curiosity to another person’s mind outgrew your self control.

“I—“ you interrupted yourself, wondering whether you should perhaps just leave Loki like that. His threats still rang clearly in your head, despite your best efforts to push them away. Thor’s words of being mindful of trusting him aligned with your general apprehension regarding his brother’s possible schemes.

But you continued nonetheless,

“I can give memories back.”

Your hand buried itself further into the blanket.

“I’ve only tried it once before,” you said, pausing to rethink your statement, “Or, rather, it had only worked once. Under one condition.”

You took a deep breath.

“I need to have physical contact to actually give memories back, to get deep enough into someone’s brain. Don’t ask why—I don’t know. But it’s the only possible way to convince him that I say the truth. I mean, I guess I can’t blame him for not believing me. I’d be hesitant too, if I had these memories in my head and people try to tell me something different.”

Oh _yes_.

You would eventually have to make your way into the alien-god’s subconsciousness; the one place where all memories had been collected since one had been born—locked away even from the person who possessed them, as having full access over all of them might overwhelm the brain. The flood of information and all the pain and other feelings the brain automatically forgot to protect itself would probably force it to permanently shut down and therefore result in death.

Oh _no_.

You were _definitely_ not keen on being in touch-range with that Princeling anytime soon, not before all of what happened and definitely not after two attempted murders and one death threat.

But apparently it was a necessity to end this entire ordeal, and so it needed to be done.

“So,” Thor spoke, ripping you out of your trance after an agonizingly long moment of silence from him. From someone usually as bold, optimistic and loud as he seemed to be, this much quiet was almost scary to notice.

“You will need to gain access to his cell.”

“Yes.” Your answer lacked the heart behind it, but you decided to ignore that.

“Then I will try to convince my father of its urgency—but it will possibly take a while.”

“Thank you,” you all but breathed, clenching your teeth, unable to keep the broken breath from leaving your throat despite your best efforts.

Thor’s shoulders slacked and you noticed that he was watching you intently, blond brows furrowing.

“Are you afraid?”

You visibly deflated, eyes widening at Thor’s perceptiveness.

“A bit maybe.”

‘ _... **murder** you were you stand_—‘

Loki’s dark, enraged voice repeated these words over and over in your head again, and it took every ounce of your willpower to make it stop.

“Do not worry,” he said, leaning forward to grasp your shoulders in a calming, reassuring gesture, “I will ensure that he is chained and constantly guarded by Einherjars during the process should it ease your concerns.”

“Thank you, really,” you spoke, letting a soft smile befall your face, “I appreciate it.”

“It is no problem.”

Thor gave you a light, almost brotherly pat on the back before he fully rose from his chair to stand.

“As I have told you before, Aldís and I have prepared a room in which you can stay in. She will return any moment and take you there,” he spoke, expression growing more grim as he paused, “I will leave to start the preparations right away. Should you need me for urgent matters, tell Aldís and she will inform me. Other than that, she will be there for you and your health.”

He gave a quick smile before he turned to leave, heading towards the golden double doors.

“Wait!” you called out after him and he stopped, hand lingering on the door, “—How long was I out this time?”

“Shortly under two days!” he called back, giving you a quick wave before the doors fell closed behind him. Leaving you behind all alone to fall into the vastness of your thoughts.

The pattern apparently beginning to form started to worry you.

Falling into a coma couldn’t be a healthy occurrence—yet nobody here had found any indication of something hostile running through your body. Still, its connection must have stemmed from your encounters with Loki, most likely from the very first one back in Stark’s Tower. Its not like you wouldn’t love a healthy dose of answers, alas, the last time you had tried to ask questions it had brought you right back into the palace’s healing wing.

Perhaps simply giving the memories back would solve everything, free you from whatever seemed to disrupt your normal life.

You didn’t have much time to ponder it though, because the heavy doors swung open once more—or rather pressed open a tiny crack, just big enough for a single person to slip through.

A woman walked forward, steps quick enough to be classified as in a slight hurry, the brown curls in a bun on her head bouncing on her way over, blue dress embedded with silver embroidery matching her blue eyes and accentuating her dark skin. She stopped shortly before your bed.

“I am Aldís,” she spoke, voice soft as she curtsied, “Eir’s apprentice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More moments with Thor! Can’t have enough of that!
> 
> Do Asgardians/Aesir sleep? I’ve done so much research, but couldn’t really find anything, so I’ll decide on:  
> Yes, but not nearly as much as humans.
> 
> On another note, this chapter was difficult for me. Somehow I have terrible problems explaining things—!
> 
> Oh AND:
> 
> If you have any theories and stuff, let me know! I’m very interested in your opinions! :)


	11. New Room, New Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You meet Aldís, Eir’s apprentice, and get to see your new accommodation.

The woman in front of you regarded you with a warm look sparkling in her deep blue eyes before she moved to curtsy, stray strand of brown hair tumbling out of her updo, which she brushed out of her face with a swift motion of her hand.

“I am Aldís, Eir’s apprentice.”

You quietly repeated her name, trying your best to imitate the exact way she had pronounced it despite the slight dryness of your throat, all the while offering her a tiny grin and wave.

“I was assigned to supervise your well being by the head healer Eir and Prince Thor,” she continued with a slight waver in her voice while straightening herself and lightly brushing her hands against her gown as if to smooth it out.

“Nice to meet you, Aldís,” you replied, almost desperately clinging to earth etiquette; to what you had been taught by your family. She seemed slightly caught off-guard by your greeting.

“It is a pleasure to meet you too,” she responded with just another curtsy and a small smile gracing her soft features.

“Would you mind following me? I am to show you to your new accommodation.”

With a nod you pushed yourself over the edge of the bed, almost too enthusiastically letting your weight drop to your feet as you stumbled. Aldís’ hands grabbed onto your shoulders in a quick, instinctive movement to steady you while you stood still, now carefully testing your feet until you felt comfortable enough.

“It’s alright,” you exclaimed with a small, awkward laugh, world around you coming to a halt as your body remembered how to stand, “Just too nervous, I guess.”

An almost hesitant second later you felt Aldís’ grip hurriedly ease from your shoulders, hands resting beside her. She was still watching you intently, most likely gauging your condition before declaring it good enough to continue.

She led you out of the room and right up a couple of stairs, more stairs and even _more_ stairs, all the while making sure that you were healthy enough to walk as she resumed her position next to you. Your hand clung to the railing and the exhaustion you felt honestly made you contemplate trying to use your ability of flight.

Alas, it was even more underdeveloped than your mind control. Mind manipulation was something that you had been able to practice in secrecy, as people were completely unable to feel your access from afar and—if done right—didn’t even notice it, should you touch them; merely feel the memories well up inside of them without knowing why. Flight though, was a much more obvious thing to practice.

In addition to that, it wasn’t just raising your body into the air as if nothing. Rather directing some weird form of energy residing within you to your feet, to propel you into the air with a sudden burst of strength.

Apparently it worked best in emergency situations—in which you couldn’t worry that much about being found out. See the time you had fallen out of a tree as well as when you had jumped out of the window to head for the alien-god. Situations in which it was necessary to force your body to comply, even if it usually didn’t seem very up for it. Situations in which you otherwise would end up with injuries or even dead.

Honestly, maybe throwing yourself down the stairs would have resulted in them working, but— _nope_ , you still had something akin to common sense.

At last you could leave the staircases behind and followed Aldìs along on beautiful marble floor, watching and admiring the paintings lining the walls as well as, once more, being absolutely fascinated by the open space looming just in between the columns, showing a beautiful view of Asgard from _very_ high up. Better not get too close.

You zoned back in as she opened a pair of doors for you, golden as well, but slightly smaller than the ones to the healing wing. With a small gesture she let you step in first, closing the doors behind you with a _thud_. There was a gigantic bed placed against the wall opposite of the door, orange bedding and brown bed frame embellished with gold. The pillows looked soft, fluffy and inviting, despite you having been unconscious for most of the time lately. You blamed royalty with they luxury for the nice looking bed tempting you to rest.

Even few plants were decorating the space in shimmering pots here and there, a gigantic painting hanging from one of the walls. Your steps quickly brought you closer as you examined the obviously drawn portrait, brush strokes varying in texture catching your eyes.

The royal family was depicted on it:

A man, the _king_ most likely, rested in a chair in the middle of it, a red cape adorning his shoulders drawn in a glowing, scarlet red. There was a woman standing behind him with a gown of sky blue, hands gently placed on his shoulders and her hair in a beautiful, soft orange to blonde bun on her head. Two children were standing next to the king: on the left a young, blond boy with a wide smile brightening the entire picture. You could only chuckle at the thought of how much his optimism simply shined through a painting, wondering how it had been in his direct vicinity back then.

With a last shift of your eyes your gaze fell on the child standing to the right, hair drawn an ebony black, eyes a piercing green and the tiniest fraction of a smile gracing his utterly pale complexion. You tilted your head back as you stared at the painting in its entirety; it somehow irked you how he stood out like a sore thumb. Eyes, hair, skin—everything, yet caught your attention last.

He almost seemed...out of place.

“That is an old portrait of the royal family,” Aldís spoke as she walked up next to you, own eyes trailing the oil painting, “It is many centuries old, six if I’m not mistaken.”

“600 years?” you uttered, tearing your face from the enthralling picture to look at her in shock.

Just thinking about what you and the rest of your kind knew about your own world from six centuries back, comparing it to the life spans of the people who were currently surrounding you—you could positively admit that you were in awe. Your life must be but the blink of an eye to them.

Not worth even another glance.

“That’s a lot,” you whispered.

She nodded. “Even for us, yes.”

Silence.

“Why is it here? And not with the others?” you asked, voice quiet.

“I am not sure,” she replied while your hand gingerly traced the wooden frame embellished with gold, “The royal family has a multitude of paintings made of them. Perhaps due to the Prince’s—“

She cut herself off and it was terribly obvious that she knew something she probably shouldn’t. Or perhaps heard a rumor she shouldn’t have heard and apparently refused to share with you. It sparked the search for answers in your own head, but before you could give it any further thought she cleared her throat and continued to show you around the room.

It had an extra bathroom you noted with glee, directly adjacent and accessible through a smaller, dark wooden door to the right side of the chamber. The inside of it looked rather similar to the one in the healing wing, carrying all the essentials of the bathrooms you were used to and more. It was, in general, simply enormous with a huge bathtub to the corner of the room, tiles on the floor and walls engraved with luxurious patterns, entire room gleaming with gold, painted in warm orange to beige tones. Some fluffy towels hung over golden hangers, seeming almost too expensive and soft to be used.

“You may wish to clean yourself after having been comatose for two days,” Aldís’ voice suggested from next to you, “In the meantime I am going to prepare a meal for you to eat.”

Your eyes, which were still looking around the room, fell on her and your mouth twitched up in a smile.

“That would be great, but—“ you started, pausing before continuing, “Are you alright with all of this? Helping me I mean? I don’t want to be a bother—“

“You’re not!” she interjected, turning to face you with an exasperated expression, “Don’t think like that, please. As Eir’s apprentice it is my duty to tend to the sick and injured, and as such I will aid you until you will eventually leave for Midgard.”

You watched as she brushed a stray strand of brown, wavy hair behind her ear, still feeling slightly bad for causing that much stress.

“Prince Thor,” she continued, “Is just as concerned for your health, as Eir and I. Making sure that you are well is important to all of us—We don’t see it as a burden. And in addition to that you are the Prince’s guest and, if I am not mistaken, his friend.”

_Friend_?

The surprise on your face didn’t go unnoticed by the woman before you, smile forming on her face making her freckles stand out even more.

“The Prince—Prince _Thor_ that is—easily makes friends. I am sure you are one of his.” Her steps already carried her towards the door while you still stood behind, staring blankly at the patterns littering the wall.

Friends? With a prince?

“I will prepare the meal now. I will return shortly.”

With that she closed the door behind her and you were left with your thoughts; deciding to postpone them for a later date you instead opted to get ready.

———

Your back laid comfortably on the bed in your new, temporary chambers, soft and fluffy blanket draped graciously on top of you while your head literally sunk into the velvet cushions.

Once you had been done with cleaning yourself in the bathroom, you had returned to your room to find Aldís setting up food on the table, putting out a plate as well as cutlery; spoon, fork and knife. You had settled down after offering her a multitude of ‘Thank You’s, eating what she had brought you with a smile on your face—directed at both, the gesture as well as the taste.

Afterwards she had informed you that Thor had been set up on a political mission in a different realm. He had insisted that he would return as soon as possible and also stated that he had already laid out the situation surrounding you and his brother for the King to contemplate—which the latter had answered he would, but only after the politics have been regulated, hence his sudden departure.

So apparently there was only one possible thing to do at this moment.

Wait.

Wait for Thor to return and settle the situation with the king.

After briefing you of everything necessary she had left you to your own devices for the day, stating that you should rest—since it was already dark outside it seemed like the only logical solution either way.

Which was precisely why you were currently resting on the bed, trying to sleep, but being unable to. Your body felt positively weakened even after just two days of not moving, limbs feeling like lead and longing for rest; yet your mind found itself unable to shut down as it was brimming with thoughts like a forgotten bowl placed below a hole in the ceiling during pouring rain.

Something else was added into the sound of your own voice ringing like constant static in your mind, an unknown factor shredding it. It felt like a movie currently running behind the white noise and sometimes managing to tear through, bits and pieces of audio and video returning without making sense.

_Enough_ of this.

Against your better judgment your body heaved itself out of the warmth and comfort of the bed, feet cautiously touching the carpet sprawled out in front of it. You found that something seemed to tug you along, tugged you forward, out of the door and into the hallways. And you merely followed along, feet dragging behind.

The corridors seemed definitely much more eerie during the nights; glow on the usually golden embellishments now appearing dim, oil paintings almost radiating an intimidating aura with the faces looming above you and staring you down. In a way you felt like they were shaming you for something.

But _what_ exactly?

—Just _where_ exactly were you going?

——————

There was an odd sensation ringing through his body as he sat up on his bed, golden spine of a book in his hands with his eyes warily traveling the pages. Black ornaments depicting birds complimented the different hues of green shading the different mountain layers on the cover and his thumb gently traced the velvet fabric with an absent gaze. That feeling in the back of his head called for him to gently place the book back down—not that he was very intently focusing on the pages in the first place—a feeling that called for him to rise and walk towards the yellow glowing barrier.

Fighting it seemed futile and the sensation didn’t seem to cause any harm, so he allowed his feet to carry him towards where he was being pulled, still cautiously trying to peer out of the cell he was placed in. He wasn’t even sure whether he was to be surprised when he caught a familiar figure sneaking down the stony staircase into the dungeons.

His lips twitched upwards ever so slightly, some sort of amusement laced with a hint of confusion lining his features.

“Hello...Little One.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This time you get to meet Aldís for real!  
> It’s so interesting to try and show a character’s personality through actions.
> 
> Can you see how I’m desperately dropping hints for future chapters? I wonder how this will work out, I’ve never written anything this long before so we’ll find out together!
> 
> Also:  
> What exactly is going on with the Reader and Loki? Find out in the next two chapters, hohoho!


	12. Deep in the Darkened Dungeons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Discoveries are being made.

“Hello...Little One.”

Your steps softly padded along the stone floor as you still tried to figure out just what in the world had made you come back down to this wretched, abandoned place, reeking of desperation and hopelessness. Astonishingly, his voice seemed oddly interested; curious rather than irritated and enraged as it usually sounded. He must have been just as confused as you were.

“Hi. Alien-God,” came your answer, voice calm while you fixated him.

You had contemplated for a moment, but then decided to still settle for the dumb nickname you had come to use. First name basis apparently wasn’t okay and he didn’t seriously expect you to go all ‘ _Your Highness_ ’ now was he? After everything that had happened?

He cast a quick glance to the side, not even trying to mask the hint of annoyance crossing the sharp features of his pale face before he strode closer to you with long steps. The silence between the two of you appeared so unbearable that even Loki opted to break it as soon as possible—though not without the hint of a smirk darkening his expression with a curl of his lips.

“Back so soon?”

He folded his hands behind his back while he spoke, straightening his posture. As always he looked perfectly royal, with his oddly ironed clothes lacking any hint of creases and his soft looking hair barely reaching the nape of his neck. Now that he was confined to a cell his hair seemed a lot less spiky and greasy—or at least a bit so, instead neatly cascading down his head.

You stopped right in front of the barrier in the secluded niche between the stone wall and his cell, staring at him while forming an answer in your head to respond to his more or less sarcastic remark,

“Seems like it.”

The light tilt of his head paired with a narrowing of his eyes and a furrow of his dark brows told you that he wanted you to elaborate. Not that you had much more to say.

“Don’t look at me like that,” you said instead, turning your head to the side, “I’m exhausted and confused.”

He started to pace, lightly. Directly in front of the barrier, eyes never straying from yours while the yellow glow casted an interesting shine on his figure; as if trying to brighten the black shadows within him.

“Then why are you here?” he inquired, growing visibly agitated.

“I don’t know.”

“You do **_not_** know?” he practically deadpanned, freezing and staring you dead in the eyes while you gave a feeble shrug. After a few seconds of agonizing silence he uttered a dry chuckle.

You couldn’t help but notice that you felt much more at ease standing down in the dungeons than you had felt lying on the soft bed—even despite your frustration at his behavior. And without him needing to say even the slightest thing in return, you felt that it was the same for him.

With an almost comical movement your eyes widened as the full revelation of its implications hit you full force, so much so that your feet caught on each other and you stumbled backwards ever so slightly, barely catching yourself.

The _thing_.

“Do you feel that too?” you asked, cautiously.

He stood still, right hand scratching on his left in a miniscule movement you detected as a hint of _**stress**_ and _**anxiety**_. _Interesting_.

“Whatever do you mean?” he replied, eyes shifting before interlocking with yours once more.

A wisp of air escaped your mouth in a dragged out noise before you made to answer his question.

“I’m not sure,” you began, hands pulling the coat you had draped around your body tighter against you, “Some sort of pull I guess? Difficult to explain—“

Putting whatever it was you felt into words proved to be even more difficult than you had anticipated, hands letting go off their tight clutch on your clothes, waving them into the air as if to help in putting your thoughts into spoken words.

His ice cold and apathetic expression as he picked up his pacing through the cell once more betrayed nothing of the agonizing _**anticipation**_ and _**suspense**_ he actually felt.

Your sigh tore through the silence.

“Could you _please_ stop that?”

The words tumbled out of your mouth before you could have fully comprehended them and he stopped dead in his tracks, almost threateningly slowly turning his body to face you with a piercing glare.

“—How do you believe to be speaking to me, _**mortal**_?” he spat, but you quickly raised your hands in surrender, keeping a tight grip on the stress and familiar burn you were feeling.

“Your behavior, it’s...it’s irritating me. I know exactly what you feel. And—and that’s weird. I know I have abilities, but _that_ level is new.” You stepped closer, biting your lip in frustration as you caught his disbelieving expression.

“Whatever I absorbed from you is to blame, I guess.”

A strained sigh tore through your throat once you had finished voicing your discovery. Your feet started to feel heavy with the weight you felt placed on your shoulders; the Princeling was difficult to be around that was for sure, rage often steaming and boiling out of him like water left for too long on the stove. Talking around him was like having to sneak through a room filled to the brink with eggshells—every misstep could possibly lead him to lash out at you.

In a cautious movement you sat down right in front of his cell with crossed legs, not missing the shift in his facade which showed his honest surprise for but the fraction of a second.

You smiled.

“Okay, the _thing_ , whatever that was—“ you began, folding your hands in your lap and watching as he stood terribly still, “Do you remember the last time I came down here? Or when you brought me here? Or back when I visited you in that weird glass cell back on Earth?”

You looked at him expectantly, gaze filled with questions but he merely kept waiting for you to elaborate further—perhaps simply stalling for time as he did not feel up to answering to your inquiry. Yet you continued on in hopes of getting any kind of reaction whatsoever; any kind of reaction which at least showed that he didn’t feel completely disinterested about your entire predicament.

“Tell me, what happened after you brought me here?”

Still, he didn’t move a single muscle.

It would have been nice to hear him _not_ feign apathy for once, to hear the words, the answer out of his own mouth.

“I’ve heard you were in a very bad condition. Like, _very_ bad. And guess what I did while you felt that bad?” you continued.

You could vaguely imagine the agony he must have most likely gone through while you were down. After all, whatever it was had rendered you unconscious.

He still didn’t move, but by now you knew he was following your words incredibly intently, turning every word around to come to his own conclusion, connecting the dots silently inside of his head. Apart from the fact that you could, in a way, feel it—you also saw it in his eyes. Every miniscule movement, every shift told a story of its own and they just carried a glint within which made you realize him to be almost terrifyingly intelligent.

Terribly perceptive, too. And cunning, resourceful.

“I was in a coma,” you spoke, answering your own question, “For two entire weeks.”

There was silence—a break you felt was needed as you watched the gears shift in his head quicker than you could possibly hope to follow.

With a clearing of your throat you continued,

“I think we are—“

“—connected,” he interjected.

“Yes.”

Even more silence followed, before you watched as he disappeared further into the cell. With a swift movement he pulled on a chair—not without his standardized amount of grace and elegance, obviously—pulling it all the way over to the barrier which separated him from you. He sat down with a fluent motion, sinking into the dark blue, velvety fabric before shifting to lean forward, hands in his lap, making his dark hair curl even further down his neck.

“Perhaps there is a method of breaking this connection,” he simply offered, head raised and voice cold, distant. So, despite both of you knowing that you were indeed capable of feeling everything he felt he still preferred to keep up his walls.

“Maybe,” you replied, shifting with unease at the way he stared down at you, “But no one here knows how. Not even your mother.”

He perched up ever so slightly.

“You have spoken to the All-Mother?”

“No,” you replied, “Thor told me.”

“Ah yes,” he said, letting his back rest against the cushions, faint hatred radiating from him unnerving you even further, “My _**brother**_.”

You preferred to not fuel whatever memories were sparking the anger inside his mind by defending Thor—This had to wait for a later date.

“Say,” you tried to pry his focus away from his family, “Does that mean you feel what I feel too?”

The corners of his lips tugged into a smirk and you decided his odd tries at humiliating you—or whatever—to be immensely better than his flaming rage. His hand graced his chin in a swift movement, before he crossed his legs, propping his elbow on it while giving you his fully smug expression.

“There is no need for such extreme measures,” he spoke, not even trying to hide the amusement in his tone, “Every _**fool**_ could possibly see it in your expression or simply hear it in your voice.”

You deflated.

“So I have no pokerface then, right. Okay,” you muttered, “No gambling for me then.”

The remark went over his head, smirk still way too overconfident as you stared at him, analyzing his posture and trying to see behind his facade as well. But it was no use; without the connection you would have definitely been clueless.

“ _Your_ facade is good though,” you mumbled, not giving it much thought as your eyes trailed his face in search of emotions, “But it’s kind of sad that you’re this good at it.”

Once more he shifted to lean forward, listening intently.

It must have certainly felt weird to him, having created a gigantic facade build of walls which no one could penetrate—only for some random person to suddenly appear and manage to see through them as if they were nonexistent all along.

“It’s usually not a sign of a happy childhood,” you offered, remembering Thor’s words regarding their father, the _King_. Your expression shifted to one filled with disdain and disgust and you tried to catch yourself, tried to actively control the way your face shifted and pulled with your thoughts—but found yourself unable to. You were simply too much like an open book, pages laid bare for everyone to read into, yet until now you had never thought about it much, never declared it much of a weakness.

Not until now, no.

Your gaze was caught by his weirdly enthralling, piercing green eyes with that strange, knowing and understanding smirk gracing his lips and you forced yourself to break the intense eye contact. It felt like he was trying to analyze your very soul and it was honestly freaking you out. Thanks to his newest revelations you felt positively weakened.

That must be what your abilities felt like to other people.

“You’re weirdly perceptive,” you spoke, staring at the book resting on the bed to the left corner of the room. The golden spine vaguely reflected the yellow, dim glow of the barrier and kept throwing you back to how his helmet had reflected the lights of New York’s destruction a couple of weeks ago.

“So I was told,” he replied after a short moment of silence, oddly sweet tone underlining his phrase and you looked back to see him slightly absent, most likely reminiscing something. Something nice perhaps. Green eyes without the glower, face without its sharpness. He seemed serene, calm. No underlying hint of mischief, of troublemaking, of annoyance and the need to belittle everyone.

[ _That look suits him much better._ ]

He gave a weak chuckle, eyes carrying a hint of an amused and intrigued twinkle even more so than before as his mouth curled upwards into a grin.

“How _**kind**_ of you.”

His voice rang through the deadly quiet, echoing relentlessly against the walls of your mind, as well as the walls of the dungeons over and over again. And afterwards a lot more silence followed as you stared at him dumbfounded; mouth agape and eyes wide open.

He held your confused gaze for a while, unblinking, before deciding to address your odd stare.

“What?”

“I—“ you spluttered, running a hand through your hair, “I didn’t say anything.”

Your confused expression was countered with one of equivalent surprise as his own dark brows lifted on his forehead.

“You did not?” he questioned, quite non-believing.

“No?”

He opened his mouth as if to say something, quickly closing it before opening it right back up with a sharp intake of air. No sound escaped his throat, leaving him to gape like a fish and you to utter a light laugh into the tense silence. Out of nervousness, stress.

His expression rested on annoyed with an almost audible click.

[ ** _Insufferable mortal._** ]

“Hey!” you interjected, almost sulking, “Cut it with that _mortal_ thing—I know you’re not immortal either, so—“

He stared, quiet.

“What?”

You watched as he pressed his lips into a thin line, hand moving from his chin to intertwine with his other hand on his lap. With a look that pierced you as much as it made him appear to be lost in thoughts he started picking on his left hand again and you arched an eyebrow in response.

“Unfortunately it seems we are connected even more deeply than we have initially thought.”

“And by that you mean—?” you asked, leaning forward ever so slightly.

“In addition to sharing our sensations and emotional state, I am further able to hear your thoughts,” he spoke, matter-of-factly, “And you are able to hear mine.”

You scoffed, rest of his implications going over your head in an attempt to save your reputation, to defend the abilities you had never been proud of out of a mere instinct, “Well I could do that before too, so—“

“No,” he cut through you voice with his, jutting his chin up as if to reprimand you for your lack of knowledge, “Not with me. Not with my mother either, I am certain. We both carry high defenses against possible intrusions of our minds, having practiced them for centuries to millennia. Defenses not to be impeached by a mere— _ **Midgardian**_.”

“—I couldn’t hear them?”

The fact that he didn’t say _mortal_ didn’t go unnoticed by you.

“No,” he repeated and the certainty behind it made you fall quiet instantly. You had never thought about this. That there may be individuals your abilities didn’t work on.

“In all honesty—“ his voice was oddly quiet as he spoke and you found him to be keeping his focus directed at the stack of books located in the corner to his right, “—I am sure, have you not had the element of surprise as well as the advantage of physical contact on your side, you would not have been able to overwhelm my defenses.”

You watched as he was deep in thought, intrigued to follow his theories which he felt the need to share. Everything was better than his rage, and his insights were rather enlightening.

“I believe we have been connected since that incident, allowing you to—“ he didn’t want to admit it, but both of you knew it either way, so he continued, “—To invade my mind another time during my imprisonment on Midgard.”

To you it sounded like he tried to convince himself rather than you, trying arguments to explain what he thought of as a sudden, inexplicable weakness.

“Yet I am unsure as to how a mere surprise rendered my defenses futile.”

“Actually,” you interjected, wanting to aid in easing his mind, “Since I’mhere I’ve heard of a new theory regarding my abilities. That the thing in your mind was related to the Mind Stone—And that my abilities originate from that stone too.”

He fell oddly quiet for a second and you vaguely caught a glimpse of horror in his green eyes and felt a vague burning sensation coursing through your body, which luckily left in the blink of an eye as he composed himself, obviously stowing parts of his thoughts away in the depths of his mind.

“That does sound like a logical possibility,” he muttered, absentmindedly propping his chin on the palm of his hand once more, “They must have attracted each other once the physical contact had been formed.”

You nodded along, “That makes sense, yes.”

Out of habit you had almost grown accustomed to the silence which formed between the two of you whenever a new revelation had been made. Loki did not seem so accepting.

“What you had told me last time,” he began, eyes searching yours to make sure he had your undivided attention, “About memories you took—That was not a lie.”

“Of course it wasn’t!” you replied with an exasperated tone gracing your voice, shifting to rest your weight on your hands in horror. You? _Lying_?

Definitely not!

“I see,” he continued, watching your outburst with amusement and intrigue—he most likely had heard bits of your internal turmoil judging by his smirk, “For what I have said, regarding being the _**God of Lies**_ ; I am indeed able to detect untruths within others. There was no such thing within you. Throughout the entirety of your visits, there was not.”

It was not like you didn’t know that you had been speaking truthfully and honestly to him—but hearing him admit to it felt oddly nice and comforting. As if such an occasion was rare in his books and it lightly filled you with pride. His finger tapped against his chin in thought before he graciously rose to his feet, still intently watching you.

“I must say I admire your honesty.”

[ ** _Not many have been this generous with me._** ]

You blinked, trying to separate the words sounding through the room from the ones sounding in your head. Whatever his inner thoughts were hinting at was not a desirable memory for sure.

“Uhm, thanks,” you quickly mumbled, returning to look at him as to not irritate him any further, yet he was already standing with his hands folded behind his back, green eyes staring you down. Under his scrutinizing gaze you slightly shifted, moving your legs to the side to keep them awake.

“Perhaps we should postpone our conversation to a later date,” he spoke, jutting his chin higher up into the air, “For you appear to be positively fatigued.”

It honestly weirded you out how he had noticed before you did—arms suddenly feeling heavier along with your legs, eyelids dropping closed.

“I do have questions of my own for the next time you intrude,” he said, turning to face the inside of his cell. His hands gently got ahold of the chair to further push it back into his accommodation, all the way back to rest next to the table. You couldn’t help but watch with half-closed eyelids, how the Prince forcefully averted his face from your direction, watched as he graciously sat down on his bed and got ahold of a book.

Now that he wasn’t yelling or dripping with rage he actually seemed like a decent person to be around. Terribly complicated nonetheless, but also much better than before. It didn’t help your assessment that you felt how **_lonely_** he was, how _**abandoned**_ he felt deep down in the dungeons, tucked away under the kingdom which he might have been born to rule.

_**Intrude**_ —You couldn’t help the smirk which graced your face.

He definitely had rather odd methods of asking for you to return.

After a while his voice sounded through the quiet.

“Are you _**still**_ there?” he said, barely loud enough for you to hear across the distance.

“Hmm,” you mumbled back, closing your eyes as a sudden wave of utter exhaustion pulled you under—quite literally as you felt yourself black out for the fraction of a second to find yourself on the floor the next time you opened them back up. The harsh stone dug uncomfortably into your side and it involuntarily reminded you of how Loki’s leather clad had poked your face while he had carried you two weeks ago.

The occasions were rare in which you were tired enough to fall asleep on such uncomfortable ground—apparently this was one of those.

For you closed your eyes and fell asleep.

——————

He closed the book with an audible _**snap**_ and placed it next to himself on the velvet, blue blanket, turning his face to look at—

— _ **Yes**_. You were still there.

Asleep.

Your body was crumpled up in a truly cramped and no doubt uncomfortable position on the moist stone floor, lips slightly parted and hair a mess on top of your head. The coat seemed to work as some kind of blanket, and he could but tilt his head in confusion, at seeing you that vulnerable on the floor. Mortals alone were weak and utterly defenseless enough; even more so compared to Asgardians and Aesir. But sleeping on the floor of a dungeon filled to the brink with the most brute and savage creatures of almost all nine realms seemed to reach an entire new level of idiocy.

He wanted to scoff but found himself unable to.

Your honesty appealed to him in an odd fashion; usually he found himself surrounded by lies and deceit—so much so he had vowed to make the very definition his own—but you? You had not lied a single time since he had met you and it eased the sensation he usually felt dwelling in the pits of his stomach whenever someone was untruthful around him, the sensation which opted to spread into his mind and always left behind a bitter taste on his tongue.

But was it honestly the truth? Were his memories all but lies, created to deceive him? Or was his usually incredibly accurate ability malfunctioning—as it seemed to have failed him during his tried takeover of New York? Could the being which had send him to Midgard possibly be tied up in the apparent erasure and twist of his remedies?

His head threatened to burst the more he tried to dug into the unknown and he found himself uselessly scraping against a barricade made of unbreakable steel, forcing him to give up upon noticing its futility.

**_No_**.

_**You were different**_.

His eyes fell on you one last time before he, too, found himself unable to fight the wave of exhaustion rolling over him, appearing so suddenly he was unable to comprehend it as his eyelids fell closed and he fell asleep on his bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I’m just trying to wing it right now—
> 
> I messed up my sleep schedule and exams are coming, so I cannot promise anymore Wednesday Updates (not that I ever DID, but still!)
> 
> Hope you enjoyed today’s update ;)


	13. Tremendous Theories over Tea-Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aldìs presents you with a revelation.

It was an oddly ungainly situation to walk into, the Einherjar thought as he took to patrolling the pathways between the cells in the corners—measures the elder Einherjars had long since abandoned in their long time of duty. He had switched shifts barely a minute ago, sun weakly beginning to peak over the horizon tinted with the waters of Asgard and he had just been about to follow the strict order in which to tend to his daily dungeon-routine.

Number one had been to arrive on time, ready in his soldier clad. The gold and orange were vastly different from the silver and blue he preferred during his time off-duty—but rules were rules after all.

Number two, getting some input from the soldiers who had worked the shift before him. Hence, they were old and not as interested in the slightest shifts of patterns in the criminal’s behavior as he still was; he tended to pay very close attention to every single lost soul perched into their cells.

Now, number three was patrolling even the hidden alleys, nooks and corners of the dungeons and it was then that his eyes fell on a person sprawled on the floor.

Directly in front of the Prince’s cell at that.

The Asgardian clothes seemed odd at first glance, even though he couldn’t quite say why. Possibly the cut, which didn’t seem traditional enough to be of Asgard despite the materials used, which were undeniably high quality.

Was it a trick perhaps?

The younger Prince was well known for his knack for mischief and deceit, mastered in seidr for centuries, more than half a millennium even. But the glowing barrier of the cell should keep even the most desperate tries of magic locked inside—this couldn’t have been on him. With quick, hurried steps he rushed over, kneeling to check the unknown person’s vitals, before a quiet snore tore through the even quieter atmosphere of the dungeons.

Sleeping?

On the cold, moist and no doubt uncomfortable stone floor?

He carefully lifted his stare from the sleeping, crumpled up form on the ground to search for the inhabitant of the cell directly next to him, head running wild with possibilities—which fell short immediately as his eyes fell on the imprisoned prince.

Who was also asleep.

Alas, he was on the bed positioned in the far corner, sprawled on top of the dark blue, velvet blanket with a book closed beside him. The Einherjar took a hesitant step closer to wake the person on the ground, halting mid-step as rustling sounded from behind the barrier and he turned only to face the fierce and deadly glare of the imprisoned Prince of Asgard. His raven hair was a tangled mess on his head and despite his drowsy green eyes the poor brunette felt the threat looming behind them.

“Not a word of this. To anyone,” the Prince spoke nonetheless, gifting words to his threat. His voice was but an icy spike piercing the man clad in golden armor, who managed to reply with a feeble nod. Prince Loki might have been imprisoned, but that in no way diminished the enormous amount of respect the brunette carried; as an Einherjar, as a citizen of Asgard, and as a person.

The Prince stared for a while longer before apparently accepting the nod as an answer, graciously rising from his seat to tend to his hair—lest anyone else noticed its current state. With a jolt the guard’s attention directed itself at the person on the floor, who stirred and was slowly but surely waking.

——————

You blinked as soon as you woke, feeling disoriented and confused while trying to take in your surroundings before abruptly remembering to have fallen asleep on the stone floor. A light wince escaped your throat as you tried to move, back hurting from the very uncomfortable ground serving as a mattress you had apparently decided was better to sleep on than the soft one lying safely in your temporary accommodation upstairs. Just thinking of the bed which had been calling your name since you had laid your eyes on it made you wish to fall asleep again.

A slight movement next to you tore your attention away from your thoughts and towards an unfamiliar man offering you a hand. The armor quickly told you that he was a guard, and you could but imagine how anyone would react to you having been found sleeping on the dungeon floor.

You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you up, a smile on his lips you decided to return. The stranger’s happiness was radiating so much it was practically contagious, dark complexion and hazel eyes glinting with warmth and contrasting almost eerily with the general negativity seeping from the prison underneath the kingdom.

“Thank you,” you muttered, hand brushing through your hair to untangle it, to which he responded with a curt nod, something akin to a salute perhaps.

You threw a quick glance into the cell next to you, catching Loki sitting on his bed with the book from before, as if without a single care in the world. His focus remained on the pages even as you continued to stare and you almost laughed at how hard he went out of his way to pretend to not see you, merely brushing a dark strand of hair behind his ear and moving onto the next page.

When you returned your attention to the guard you found him to have followed your example and watching Loki, only reluctantly averting his eyes to look back at you.

“What’s your name?” you asked, looking for a name-tag as if in a store on Earth and mentally slapping yourself for it. There was a slight tug in the back of your head, something you decided to classify as laughter and you really wished for the connection to not carry across random thoughts to Loki.

“Oh! It’s Ragnarr,” he answered with a short half bow. You gave him your own name in response and smiled at his first tries of pronouncing it, giving him a small wave.

“If you may, I can call someone to return you to your accommodations,” he spoke, but you hastily shook your head, not really wanting to accidentally spread rumors about yourself just because you were being escorted out of the dungeons. It was bad enough that you had nothing with you to take care of your disheveled appearance before eventually having to stride back up to your room.

You could only hope that no one—or at the least, not many people would see you that tired and exhausted, creeping around the castle. For you were in no mood for questions, especially considering that you couldn’t quite delve into a full blown explanation as to what you were doing and why you were down there in the first place.

“Thank you, but I think I’ll find my way back,” you said, adding a quiet ‘probably’ he didn’t hear. But you suspected _someone_ else did.

“Alright,” he nodded, giving another salute with a bright smile, dimples appearing to deepen his mirthful expression, “Return safely! And perhaps until next time!”

You bid your farewell and made your way back up the stone carved staircase leading up and out of the prison. Until next time might just come by quicker than Ragnarr had intended for it to.

After all you appeared to have quite some time to kill while waiting for Thor to return and organize everything with his father. Which is to say, should the king even _agree_ to it in the first place.

In addition to that, no matter how much you might have wanted it to not be true, you felt bad for the Princeling locked away down here. It must be truly lonely to be shunned from your one and only family with not a single soul coming to visit you. Especially considering the fact that whatever had happened wasn’t totally on him either, rather by some unknown outside force. Whether he knew or not that his family was merely kept from visiting him by orders of the King was beyond you—yet you doubted it would change much of his attitude.

At least not with whatever had messed with his mind still having lingering effects on him.

Caught in your train of thoughts you barely noticed having found your way back upstairs, at the least having spared yourself the embarrassment of noticing other people’s confused and irritated stares, blissfully albeit accidentally ignoring them as their minds burst with questions regarding someone unknown to them.

You carefully pushed the doors open, letting them fall closed behind you.

The clearing of someone’s throat made you trip over your feet and look up in a haste, catching Aldís standing in the middle of the room with her arms crossed below her chest, royal blue dress adorned with silver threads contrasting with the brown, orange and red of the walls and furniture. With her posture and gaze she seemed adamant on reprimanding you at first, until she took in the entirety of your appearance; the clothes littered with creases and folds, hair but a mop of tangles on your head and light dark circles below your eyes.

She took a few steps towards you.

“What happened? Where have you been?”

The sheepish grin forming on your lips, no doubt looking as if caught red handed while doing something mildly illegal, eased her worries but strengthened her need to reprimand you like a needlessly fretting parent.

“Where have you been?” she repeated her question, looking at you with slight worry and concern still evident in her blue eyes.

“It’s uh—“ you began, hands fumbling with the coat,” A funny story?”

———

Despite your desperate tries of assuring her that everything was alright, she had used her position as a healer to coax you into telling her what had transpired. You had decided to trust her, trust her with everything that had happened and everything you knew about your new connection with Loki; from the sensations and emotions, all the way to his thoughts ringing in your head at times.

Remembering Thor’s words you knew that she had been with them from your very first day on Asgard, tending for your unconscious body as well as theorizing regarding your condition together with the head healer Eir, Thor and even the Queen—you felt that she should know everything you knew, too.

“This is...too much,” you spoke after a while, admitting your defeat and sinking further into the soft cushions of the seat you were resting in, “This weird pull that tries to keep us together—I mean—“

You caught her giving you a thoughtful look, halting in your rambling while shifting under her gaze.

“What?”

She pursed her lips, wringing her hands in her lap.

“I think I might have a theory.”

You gave her a nod, urging her to explain as your head burst with questions, unresolved ones as well as new ones forming with every minute that passed in silence.

“Alright,” she began, having collected her thoughts, “From what I have heard you had formed a telepathic connection with the Prince back on Midgard, correct?”

“That’s a way to put it,” you mumbled with a nod, finding the formulation almost too positive in its sound, “Yes, that’s true.”

“That telepathic bond came into existence due to the similar nature of whatever it was which had been planted inside of his mind to twist his memories, as well as the origin of your abilities—most likely related to the Mind Stone.”

She glanced at you, making sure you were following along, to which you gave another nod.

“This leads me to assume that, perhaps, during that initial connection both of you absorbed part of the other—a part of your soul if you believe in such,” she twirled a strand of brown hair around her finger in thought, barely even noting your utterly stunned facial expression looking as if someone had just shown you proof that Earth was indeed flat.

“My _soul_ ,” you started, gazing at her, eyes so wide you most likely looked as if you had gigantic googly ones placed on top of them, “He has part of my _soul_.”

“Of your very being, yes,” she replied, voice incredibly calm despite your panic, perhaps not having noticed it or not quite understanding your reaction, “And you have part of his.”

“And that connection? Can we—can we _cut_ it?”

Your hands grew slightly sweaty as your mind ran wild like cars driving in a race, and you couldn’t help but wonder which one of them would finish first. The one in which you feared that he was to be stuck in your head forever? Or the one where you were mildly concerned regarding what exactly this connection would even mean for the both of you? Would the connection falter once you got back home, unable to work such long distances? Or would negative consequences occur should you even try—

“I do not believe that’s possible,” she spoke to answer your question, cutting through your concerns and slight terror. All the while your throat felt like it was closing up, thoughts growing louder still until a penetrating ring akin to an aggressive hissing was all you heard.

“What does it mean,” you tried voicing your thoughts despite the white noise, “What does it mean for me to be connected to him? That I have a part of his soul? That he has a part of _mine_?”

You kept repeating the phrase not only out loud, but also in your head, desperately trying to make sense of it, to make it seem more tangible as you attempted to evoke some sort of understanding or, at the very least, _acceptance_ in your brain.

Aldís stayed still for a couple of seconds, hand reaching for the pot placed on the table and pouring a cup of tea, gently pushing it towards you. Your eyes numbly watched the two, luminescent petals swirling and shifting on top of the liquid’s surface; sweet, flowery scent invading your nostrils not enough to break you out of your shocked trance as her kind gesture went over your head.

“Whatever I tell you now is merely a theory of mine, mostly based on theoretical conversations with the head-healer Eir and the All-Mother, as well as books from times immemorial,” she spoke, pouring herself a cup of tea as well before tenderly grasping the mug, warming her hands.

“First, you need to know that the soul consists of more parts than one. During your initial connection each part of your being has most likely latched onto each part of his and vise versa, in body, mind and spirit. It possibly started out with the mind only, but as the connection persisted the body and spirit followed along.”

Your utterly perplexed facial expression made her reconsider her approach, taking your most likely limited knowledge into account as she rephrased her sentences.

“It means that you are bound to him in your entirety. Your soul will always yearn for the part of you which resides within him, and it is the same for him and his part in you,” she elaborated, look in her eyes growing more concerned with each spoken word obviously weighing heavily on you while you clutched onto the fabric above your heart.

Your leg had started bouncing slightly out of nervousness and you willed it to calm down, hand on your lap clenched tightly to a fist while the other one moved to lift the cup with trembling movements, bringing it to your slightly chapped lips to clear the dryness of your throat.

“If I might offer this assumption—“ she spoke once more, almost tugging on her hair, as if thinking about keeping the newfound information to herself, “The both of you are most likely connected for eternity.”

You spluttered, choking on your tea and spilling half of its contents as you clutched the mug too tightly. With hurried and instinctive movements you began wiping on the table with your sleeve, not catching Aldís conflicted expression.

“To _what_?”

“Eternity, yes,” she continued, plucking a napkin from the side and helping in cleaning your mess, stopping you from further soaking your clothes, “For the soul continues to exist even after death. Even after the both of you have died, your souls will simply find a new body to reside in; you will be reincarnated and continuously drawn to each other.”

By now your body was frozen so solid you could have as well been. The blood running through your veins felt ice cold even though your head burned like fire, something akin to adrenaline running through your veins and almost activating your fight or flight mode—despite no actual danger existing to run from.

None but the demons in your head. Or _soul_ , rather.

“You—You want to tell me I have to stay connected to a—to a _lunatic_? Even after _death_? _Forever_?”

You stopped, watching her terrified expression and contemplating your words, suppressing the familiar twinge dwelling in the back of your head with squeezed eyes, trying to focus on keeping the newly acquired knowledge from seeping through the link.

“Yeah okay, no lunatic, I _know_ , but—“ you sunk into the chair, sigh tearing through the middle of your sentence while you fought to refrain from freaking out any further, “He’s just so, _so_ —“

“Difficult?”

“ _Yes_!” you yelled in defeat, “So complicated, dramatic and his need to hide behind walls makes me mad! And I—I don’t know _him_ , I don’t know who he is besides his apparent need to belittle me, humiliate me and drive me insane! It’s just so—“

Her laugh made you halt in your tracks, interrupting your very own dramatic outburst to stop and mull over everything which had just left your mouth.

“It is not in my place to say this,” she said, holding a hand in front of her mouth to stifle her giggle, “But I know this to be true. I understand, believe me. I really do.”

Her smile was soft and it calmed you ever so slightly as you took deep breaths, over and over again, feeling your lungs carefully fill and deflate.

“If it eases your worries, I do have a few things I can tell you about him. About who he is behind his facade.”

And so you listened intently to the stories she had to tell, listened to all the adventures she had witnessed, the myths she had read and the rumors she had heard. How Loki had gone on a multitude of missions with his brother and their friends despite the All-Father’s orders. How he yearned for the man’s, his father’s approval more than for anything else. How it was wildly known that he had a soft spot for his mother, the Queen and how he loved no one more than his brother Thor.

She had sighed.

“This was prior to the incident which caused him to be declared dead for the entirety of a year—a year in which his family had mourned him dearly. A year in which unspeakable things must have happened, causing him to end up in such a predicament.”

After inquiring further as to how she had obtained all of her knowledge you had learned that she had been Eir’s apprentice for nearly two decades, having been close to the royal family even before that through her mother, who had been a great healer herself before her demise.

“Sorry,” you had mumbled, to which she had shook her head, waving it off.

“This had been centuries ago,” she had replied, “I have had enough time to mourn.”

She continued on for a while longer, all the while almost absentmindedly clinging onto the empty cup in her hands.

“What I mean to say is that Prince Loki has always been rather difficult. Being the brother of someone as outgoing and filled with warmth and optimism such as Thor seems like a rather tough environment to grow and flourish in.”

You finished the rest tea swirling around in your cup with a last sip, mindful of the petals while your gaze rested on Aldís.

“He was a different person before,” she concluded, placing her mug down as well, “He has vastly changed, lost the childish innocence he had before. But still, I firmly believe that there is good in him. I do not deem him nearly as evil and twisted as the majority of Asgard seems to do.”

You deeply contemplated her words. The majority of Asgard condemned him? Was it for his deeds on Earth, or for what had transpired before his year of absence? For how he had tried to eradicate an entire realm for some unknown goal even Aldís didn’t have further information about?

“You will get to know him eventually,” she spoke, calmly, “Even if you do not wish to do so now. The Norns have wanted for it to happen, and I firmly believe they hold their reasons in what they do.”

“The Norns?” you asked, voice a whisper.

“Fate,” she replied, “But remember, this is only a mere theory of mine. I have yet to fully discuss it with the All-Mother and Eir.”

You felt how she poured every single drop of compassion within her into uttering these words, trying to ease your mind. Just as you had felt during the entire time in which she spoke, telling you about the imprisoned Prince rotting away below the kingdom.

Aldís certainly had known him longer than you did, having known him through family ties, through both of their mothers being close acquaintances for millennia. And she gave him a chance, believed in him.

Which is why you would as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update:
> 
> Can't make it this Wednesday, so the next update will be on Saturday instead!   
> I have a lot of presentations and exams coming up and for now I’ll have to resort to one-weekly updates—I don’t want the quality to suffer for simple quantity. But I’ll try to catch up soon!
> 
> —
> 
> Ragnarr, my sweet child! And my intelligent Aldís in her element! Finally the second character of mine gets some time!
> 
> And a new revelation!
> 
> Did you guess it?


	14. A New Regular Routine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You settle into a new Routine.

Days of waiting had passed and you had found yourself giving in to the tug making you gravitate towards the dungeons another time. By now you were aware of why it was happening, and thus had given up completely in fighting against the pull dragging you along, down the stairs and past the guards into the hallway. You only stopped when you heard a voice speak that you hadn’t heard this far.

“—That is all which we have found out.”

There were no guards around as you crept closer still, steps silent against the stone floor.

“Surely you cannot be serious,” someone spoke, and you recognized that deep, almost velvet voice anywhere.

_Loki_?

“My **_soul_**. Connected to that of a _**Midgardian**_.”

Quiet steps accompanied his short sentences, words coming out like disbelieving huffs of air, and you halted as you listened to his familiar sounding reaction—it was almost eerily similar to your own, non-believing and equally believing, merely hoping it to not be true.

So Aldís’ theory had indeed been proven correct.

“Yes,” the gentle voice replied, “We have thoroughly discussed your predicament as well as the Midgardian’s condition—It is true.”

A poorly veiled, dragged out sigh escaped the Prince and you cold literally feel him squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his jaw in devastation.

“...I know, mother,” he mumbled, barely audible for you to hear while his steps sounded like an elephant stomping through the room in comparison.

Oh god. The _Queen_ was here?

Apparently she was projecting herself into his cell again; right this very moment. Your feet stumbled back automatically, taking it as your cue to leave, as to not accidentally eavesdrop in on their conversation. With horrid realization you tuned in on every of your steps, listening to how they left behind a small, tiny noise sounding more like heavy percussions ringing in your ears, your breathing appearing much too loud for you to further remain undetected.

After your last encounter with him turned out surprisingly smoothly, you didn’t want a single accidental instance to prompt him to go back on what little progress you had made. Especially not after knowing that there most likely was no exact cure to heal you, to sever your connection.

With these thoughts thundering deafeningly in your mind you held your breath, squeezing yourself further into the stone wall as if trying to merge with it—missing the little tug tearing through your mind in your frenzy.

There was an agonizingly long pause in which you started to struggle keeping your breath in, hands gripping onto the stone for support.

“If you may excuse me,” the Queen spoke, gentle and soft, but with a familiar tint of amusement lacing her calm voice, “My absence has not gone unnoticed, so I must bid you farewell, my dear.”

“Until later, mother,” came his surprisingly soft reply.

A moment of silence passed, water drops twisting their way through cracks carved into the ceiling falling down and hitting the stone ground with a quiet noise. You resigned yourself to waiting a while longer, just to make sure, before carefully placing your foot one more step into the direction of the staircase leading back out of the dungeons—

“She has left.”

The sudden exclamation, which was most likely directed at you, made you trip over your feet in a haste, barely catching yourself against the wall before your body could tumble to the floor. With slightly reddened cheeks, feeling terribly embarrassed for being caught red handed, you decided to trudge into the open room—it was too late to escape unnoticed, after all.

You hesitantly lifted your gaze from the floor to find the Prince with the ghost of a smug grin crossing his face, no doubt because of your abashed behavior. Still, having heard the topic of their conversation as well as feeling the distress seeping out of him you tried to not give in to his childish attempts of provoking a reaction out of you.

“I...I didn’t mean to intrude,” you mumbled, raising a hand to your face to briefly shield you from his gaze. But as his gaze still seemed to pierce you still, you decided to cut to the point instead.

“So she told you?”

He dropped the smirk.

“Yes.”

The two of you spent a long time without speaking a single word; you having decided once more to rest on the ground with your legs crossed, while he almost defiantly continued to stand. There was something burning inside of him, questions buzzing around his mind so loudly but cluttered all the same, rendering you unable to separate the words from each other. You noticed that his stare was directed at the floor rather than you, so you waited for the noise in his head to spew out of his mouth—in sentences and questions you could actually reply to.

“How much,” he began, hesitating in his mind while his face appeared more made of ice than ever before, “How much experience did you have prior to the incident on Midgard regarding your mind related abilities?”

His inquiry sounded more like a demand for answers than an actual question, but the newfound knowledge concerning your connection and the little stories told to you by Aldís still echoing through your head prompted you to reply to his hellishly cold words with a smile.

“Not much,” you responded, immediately delving into an explanation of how and when you had come to use them before. As your mostly one-sided conversation continued on, he started interjecting here and there, asking you to elaborate on certain parts. All the while he tried his best to pass it off as mere interest into the unknown even though you undeniably felt that it was mostly genuine curiosity and partially the desperate need to fill the silence.

It was as though he was attempting to deceive himself, rather than you.

You felt how his thoughts ran wild despite his unmoving, stiff posture, felt how the gears in his head shifted while he attempted to form the next question, the one you had vaguely felt burning him deeply since you had descended the stairs.

“Are you...certain that you hold memories of mine?” he spoke, words lingering heavy in the air after having been crafted so very carefully, and the uncertainty and fear dwelling inside of him elicited a frown on your face as your body slumped with his unshed emotions.

“Yes,” you replied, with as much confidence as you could muster, faint remnants of his memories replaying in front of you while you bit your lip.

“How much so?” His voice grew quieter.

“One hundred percent.”

By now his thoughts have turned into a blaring, jumbled mess, bouncing so restlessly that bits and pieces managed to reach you despite the weakened barricade he apparently had created to keep his mind from directly leaking into yours; penetrating, roaring static dripping like poison into your consciousness.

He was doubting you all the while believing you.

He doubted your words despite his own body physically forcing him to accept them as the truth, memories in his head fighting against abilities he had possessed for centuries and never questioned before.

It hurt you, how every new question appearing in his head felt like a knife to the chest, a flame leaping to devour the body, breath taken from the lungs leaving you as well as him behind growing weaker and breathless, and you started to almost ring for air.

“Hey,” you breathed, clutching your coat as if it would aid you in filling your lungs with the oxygen they desired, “I’ll find a way to solve this. I _promise_ , I will—“

“ _ **How**_ ,” he interjected as he took a step forward, teeth bared but eyebrows drawn together in obvious distress, “ _ **How**_ do you think you might help me? You have _**no**_ idea what—“

He paused.

“You _**do**_ know. You have heard me again, have you not?”

You gave a sheepish nod, prompting him to heave a dragged out sigh through his nose in response, glancing to the side as to not meet your questioning, worried gaze.

“I,” you began, hand clutching the coat turning to a clammy, nervous fist, “I can give memories back. And I _will_ do my best to do so.”

While speaking you had decided to omit his family on purpose—at least for the time being. Omit, how his brother fought for him, figuratively as well as literally to enable him to retrieve the memories from you, against his father’s definite will.

It would not do well with his false remedies twisting his beliefs into negatives.

“Do you really wish to be in here with me?” His voice was strained but cold,as he stood unmoving—so still you couldn’t even catch him breathing.

“Not really,” you answered truthfully as always, watching how his shoulders relaxed while his expression hardened all the same.

“But I really want you to have them back. They are yours after all, and if it helps the both of us I’ll gladly enter the cell with you.”

You noticed a hint of a genuine smile, vanishing as quickly as it had graced his pale, harsh expression, and it made you slightly smile to yourself before stirring the conversation back to lighter topics.

———

You kept the newfound tradition.

By now you had descended the stairs down into the prison on multiple occasions, visiting Loki as he almost eagerly awaited your return. It could do nothing but sadden you further, feeling how he secretly clung to your visits like his only lifeline as no one else but his mother seemed to come by, to keep him company in his eternal solitary confinement. You obviously knew about the King’s restrictions, but you didn’t know how you might be able to tell him without triggering his memories—it was still a topic you decided to avoid. At least for the time being.

Slow progress was being made and you felt it; though the fact that he started calling you _Midgardian_ rather than _mortal_ and you appreciated it, didn’t set the bar to being a decent person to a reasonable or even desirable height. He kept answering the multitude of questions you flung at him with grace, the annoyance masking what he thought of as vulnerability getting thinner each second you spent near each other. After a while he even began freely asking about what seemed to bother him, starting discussions which may just have been lasting too long into the night—sitting in the dungeons, who could tell?

If it weren’t for Ragnarr looking after you at times, you would probably just set up camp in front of the Prince’s cell.

And so it was that Ragnarr had once more found you sitting cross legged on the floor, Prince Loki across from the barrier in his chair leaning forward on the silky blue cushions.

“And you can really speak all languages?”

The astonished tone in your voice rang through the long hallways leading through the prison and Ragnarr watched Loki give a barely veiled chuckle—an improvement to when they had first brought him back in chains. By now the Prince’s laugh didn’t carry any hint of hostility anymore, only genuine amusement.

“It is called ‘Allspeak’,” he elaborated, “Accurately, it might rather be described as a tool than a language, creating a bridge between listener and speaker.”

With your chin pushed up on your hands you watched him in fascination, listening intently to every word he spoke, eagerly soaking up the new information to satisfy your curiosity.

“You are perceiving my words as if spoken in your native language, although I never change vocabulary, dialect nor pronunciation. However, to me you appear to be speaking Asgardian.”

“I am?” you voiced, mouth agape.

“Yes. Not every citizen on Asgard can speak it,” he continued, casting a glimpse at the figure approaching behind you, “Only those close to the royal family have had the access to learn it.”

The words died on your tongue as you turned around to follow his gaze and caught Ragnarr striding closer with crossed arms and a bright smile on his lips which made you spring to your feet in response.

“That late already?” you exclaimed, brushing off your clothes with a slightly disappointed expression while Loki gently rose from his seat. Ragnarr’s smile deepened further while he gave a quick nod, fascinated by your exaggerated frustration as you took a couple of sluggish steps into his direction. With quick farewells to the both of them you headed for the entrance, up the stairs and back into your room to have your usual, regular evening meal with Aldís.

Spending time with the Prince having friendly conversations had an incredibly calming effect on you, heartbeat slowing along with your breathing while the jumbled mess of thoughts raging inside your mind cleared almost completely. Spending time _away_ from him just made you all the more aware of the fact that _something_ of you was missing—a gaping, inexplicable hole only to be filled by his presence.

———

After another day spent relaxing and catching up with Aldís as well as exchanging news regarding the Prince, you learned that she had indeed discussed her theory with the Queen, who had successfully proven it correct. Once Aldís had left for you to rest, you happily and tiredly settled in the more than just comfortable bed, pulling the blanket all the way up to your chin.

Few light filtered through a gap between the dark curtains and casted a serenading glow on your surroundings.

The painting of the Royal Family got hit by the ray of light, gently accentuating Loki’s face and your eyes were once more drawn to his sharp features—seeming more strikingly peculiar then ever in contrast to the radiating warmth of the other three family members, emphasized even further by the differences in color.

You squinted your eyes in thought, examining it.

The King, Queen and Thor were drawn primarily with warm tones, even the blue of the Queen’s clothes having touches of orange mixed in to appear more inviting. Meanwhile, Loki gleamed in cold hues; black mixed with cold, icy blue, piercing green and even the yellow in his clothing was almost deliberately appearing more green, more cold.

It was, most likely, indeed a deliberate _choice_ by either the artist or the commissioner. But _why_?

Analyzing the painting managed to lull you closer to sleep, picture remaining behind your closed eyelids while you fell into calming darkness.

Unfortunately, your sleep didn’t last long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I did some research, I mean I’d be TOTALLY curious as to why some kind of Alien-Dudes can understand me and vise-versa.
> 
> This chapter is but the freshly paved road before we hit another pothole of drama—
> 
> See you on Saturday!


	15. Furious Fires and Flames

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Traumatic experience or abstract nightmare?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Trigger Warning!—  
> Descriptions of Angst and Trauma, aftermath of Physical Violence

_Pain_.

Searing, hot agony ripped you out of your serenity with a jab to the chest, making you jerk upright, blanket clutched in your hands. You had hoped for it to be a nightmare, yet the pain stubbornly persisted, growing even further in intensity. Every breath of air pulled in through your clenched jaw and grinding teeth was a struggle, barely enough air managing to reach your lungs for you to keep consciousness, while sweat dripped down your clammy skin in abnormous beads. With a wheeze you tumbled out of bed, face first unto the soft rug below. It barely managed to lightly cushion your fall, but as the agony within you continued to surge like fire burning you from inside out, you could not care any less about falling on your face. Your hands grabbed the carpet, fingers burying themselves deeply in the tangled strands of fabric as you tried to collect and calm your breathing, desperately so.

_Everything was okay. Everything was okay._

You frantically pushed yourself up, checking your body for any kinds of injuries—cuts, bruises, stab or burn wounds, _anything_. All the while you tried to bite back the scream looming behind your grit teeth, resting on top of your tongue merely waiting to be released as you eased it out in a light wail instead.

_Everything was okay, you were fine._

Through the thick haze clouding your mind you could only think of one person connected so deeply to your own being, only _one_ person whose condition could affect your very soul to such extremes.

And so you forced yourself to stand, almost tumbling down to the floor another time with each small step you took, each breath you had to violently drag through your mouth and into your lungs. Your hands fumbled with the doorknob as if you had never opened a door before, until finally managing to twist it, leading you into the darkness beyond.

The hallways were barely alight with small bowls of orange fire in the corners as you stumbled through like a zombie in search of nutrition. Flames were dancing inside of your veins with mirth, while you were on the brink of collapsing as the intensity grew worse with each passing second in which you followed along through the darkened corridors, all the way down the stairways to the dungeons with incredible difficulty.

Feeling positively set ablaze by the time you reached the entrance, you tossed morals out of the window as you forced your consciousness into the guards’ heads, to prompt them to not notice how you were sneaking right past them.

They couldn’t see you like this.

They would have most likely refused you entrance and instead called for the healers, for Eir and Aldís. But they could never help you with whatever was happening, only delay you in solving it yourself.

Labored breathing filled the silence as you entered the room and you willed yourself to stop. Not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself you bit down on your lip with excruciating strength prompting it to bleed—yet the ragged breathing continued.

“Alien Prince,” you mumbled, though parts of your exclamation came out as a mere breath with the air stuck in your throat, pain inside of you forcing you to your knees. Your hands pressed against the cold stone floor, muscles tensing as you inched your way to his cell, close enough to finally raise your head. To search for him.

Your eyes locked with his just as another jolt blurred your vision with tears.

He was laying on the blue blanket sprawled across his bed in the far corner of the room; hair a vivid, ebony mess, attire not at all the graciously ironed one you were used to as he tossed and turned with—what you assumed—an even worse amount of pain than you currently felt. You winced watching him writhe, heels digging into the mattress along with his fingers and nails, expression strained with obvious effort as he bared his teeth.

“Prince,” you tried, but with your lack of oxygen it came out as a mere huff of air and he only continued on in his struggling, no signs of having heard you.

“ _Loki_!”

His name finally escaped your lips in desperation, mind short-circuiting as you almost physically reached out to him. For a few seconds his face showed recognition as he stilled, before panic took right over again, eyes shut so forcefully it only hurt you further. You crawled closer to the barrier in distress, each movement feeling like further letting yourself getting drowned by the raging fire seeming to seep out of him, feeling your limbs being burned off so realistically, you had to periodically check whether they were still attached to you.

Few centimeters from the barrier you willed yourself to calm—a rather impossible task as the jab to the chest managed to tear you out of your concentration more than once while you focused on the Prince. On _Loki_. Focused on the sensation of your hands on your temples and the image of you entering his mind.

With one last breath you let go.

———

You awoke in his consciousness being set aflame. Quite literally.

The fire surrounding you threatened to melt you on the spot as you formed your own consciousness into your shape, your apparition, stumbling along before crashing onto your knees as the pain was too much to bear.

He was having a nightmare.

Your eyes found him in the midst of even more fire, huddled on his knees with his head clutched in his hands. The bright orange licked his body, his skin already full of burn wounds, parts of it even scorched so much it seemed black rather than red and you had to fight to keep your focus, had to force yourself to crawl closer.

“ _Loki_ ,” you called, voice on the brink of breaking as it was weighed down with misery and terror alike, “Loki. I’m here.”

The closer you got the more horror engulfed you, seeing half of the Prince’s face burnt to a crisp, left hand all the way up to his arm filled with blisters in various sizes. In newfound panic you scrambled around the other side, taking his mostly non injured arm in your hands once you were near enough to touch him. Instinctively he tried to flinch out of your grasp, but you didn’t let him, grip firm and tight, but careful.

Taking in his condition, an involuntary sob escaped your lips, tears welling in your eyes not because of you, but _for_ _him_.

He didn’t even look at you, didn’t even really notice your presence with his head directed to the floor and hands still clinging to cover his face. His ebony hair was singed at the edges, standing up in slight curls. Sweat was trickling down his broken and torn skin which was burnt in spots to the point of being unrecognizable. Clothes were torn in places with red protruding from beneath, crimson smeared across parts of his neck as well as his arms, blossoming from his stomach like a red rose.

Tossing all that you had thought of him prior to this out of the window, you gently got ahold of his wrists, trying to ease his hands out of his face to tear him out of his trance as you numbed to the agony.

He tried to fight your grip, weakly, but you persisted and you could hear your own heart shatter as you looked at his face. His condition. His expression, _genuine_ expression. Nightmares weren’t nightmares for nothing, it was a means of dealing with things that had happened, albeit usually depicted in abstract forms.

But _this_ —

His green eyes still forced themselves to the ground, almost swollen shut due to the burns and tears. They shined with sadness, with terror and panic, with trauma so severe the mere thought forced tears to escape your own eyes as your gaze searched his. Instinctively, your hand let go off its hold on his now unmoving arm, reaching up below his chin to force him to meet your gaze, trying your best in calming him. Your hands avoided whatever parts of him were mostly injured, touch careful, light as a feather and undeniably gentle as you held onto the clammy skin of his face.

“ _Loki_ ,” you spoke, pouring as much of your compassion into his name as you could, “Loki, it’s me.”

For a few seconds longer he was terribly still, your very own agonizing wails tearing through your teeth filling the silence with other noises besides the cackling of the roaring fire, the flames leaping at your skin. And through it all, he whispered your _name_. Not the nickname he had always used—your _actual_ _name_.

His voice was small as he spoke, fragile. Hurt, confused and terrified.

But mostly so, so terribly broken, shards lodging themselves into your soul hurting more than the fire surrounding you ever could and you gave a hurried nod in response.

“Yes,” you replied, trembling while your lips formed a desperate smile, “You’re dreaming. You’re having a nightmare.”

Seconds, perhaps minutes passed—as slowly as sand seemed to wind down in an hourglass. Time passed, before the fire surrounding the both of you appeared to dissipate into thin air, terrific heat slowly subsiding as you watched his attire shift back to the one you were accustomed to. You watched as his wounds healed, from gaping wounds to scars to perfect smooth porcelain skin, holes in his clothing seemingly getting sewn shut.

His sudden, tight grip on your wrists surprised you and you noticed that your hands were still softly cupping his face as if afraid to let go. He slowly lifted them away, off of his face and let them drop into your lap, lingering for but the fraction of a second before retracting his own hands to lazily cross over his chest.

“Are we in my mind?” he spoke, voice having returned to its cold, calculating tone while he looked at you with an almost eerily neutral gaze. Even though he tried to cling onto his protective walls, you could still feel exactly what he felt. And while you were in his mind, it was even stronger than ever before.

Every little thought and feeling of his laid absolutely and utterly bare for you to see, hear and feel.

“Yes,” you said to answer his question, “We are.”

He was insecure. Afraid even.

The amount of access you had to his consciousness frightened him, the fact that the fortress he had build for himself to hide behind was but dust in your hands as you stood among the rubble created by a war he fought with himself.

“Why are you here?” he inquired.

“Because you were in pain,” you replied. It was as simple as that.

[ ** _The connection had carried across my misery to you and forced you to act if you wished for it to stop._** ]

That wasn’t your thought. It was _his_. It was a thought he meant to keep to himself, it was a thought forcing him to pretend that no one would ever care for him in any way or form, that anytime anyone visited or spoke to him—it was merely for their own personal gain and not because they cared.

You saw it clearly now, laying bare in front of you.

Every time his _mother_ had visited, he told himself that she felt as if it was her duty. Her duty as his mother to check whether he was still alive during this eternal imprisonment.

Every time he had interacted with his _brother_ , he told himself that he felt it was his duty too, to protect the weak link in their happy, beautiful, picture perfect family. To make sure the black sheep behaved accordingly.

Every time _you_ had visited, he told himself it was out of blatant curiosity for another species, attempts to understand the _**lunatic**_ mass murderer of New York, the War Criminal of Earth. Because of the link forcing you to make sure he was in a sufficient condition, enough so for you to not feel the negative aspects influencing your life—

“ _No_ ,” you spoke up, no longer wishing to listen to his self deprecating thoughts but wincing at his use of ‘ _ **lunatic**_ ’, “I’m here because I’m willing to give you a chance.”

You looked into his eyes which still appeared ice cold on the outside, watched him tilt his head as you gave him a determined, fierce, but incredibly genuine smile.

“Because I want to know who you are. Because I want to help you,” you continued, watching small parts of the ice in his glare melt away with the sincerity of your words, “I’m here because I _want_ to be here.”

His eyes were wide, expression open, vulnerable. The ice was gone.

“I know you can feel that I say the truth,” you said, intertwining your hands in your lap as you shifted in your position, “And I hope you noticed.”

“I did,” he spoke, so quiet you barely caught it while his eyes continued to stare at you in newfound curiosity and confusion, a softer look compared to his usual piercing glare.

Silence followed as neither of you had any idea what to say, what words to use to fill the void. But at the same time, the quiet seemed oddly calming. With the fire gone you could actually feel yourself relaxing in his presence, sitting mere centimeters away from him, from the very core of his being.

[ ** _Thank you._** ]

It was the last thing you heard from him while you were still in his consciousness and your smile widened, brightening the darkness around you considerably as it shrunk under your mirth.

[ _Thank you for tolerating me._ ]

You barely managed to catch his lips curling upwards in what could only adequately be described as genuinely sweet and his dark eyebrows drew together in an expression of utter ease and tranquility.

You barely managed to catch the honest delight brightening his features before you were forced to leave his mind out of exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know what triggers people, so I hope I warned sufficiently!
> 
> Did I bring the nightmare across well enough? It’s one of the few scenes I really kept from my first draft (even though I heavily edited it!)!


	16. A Well Deserved Day Off

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone needs to have some actual free time.

He awoke wide eyed.

His mind was racing despite the relaxation he had felt mere moments ago, thoughts stumbling over one another in a hurry as he jolted upright, hands gripping into the soft sheets of his bed. Sweat was trickling down his still clammy skin left behind by a nightmare—a nightmare which felt **_much_** too real to be but made up by his brain.

Involuntarily his eyes hushed left and right until they found you, once more collapsed on the floor, unmoving. He sprung to his feet before he could comprehend what he was doing, steps swiftly bringing him over to crouch next to the barrier. Dried trails of tears were evident on your cheeks and he watched as you heaved a shuddering breath. It made him flinch despite the oddly genuine smile tugging your lips up ever so slightly—you seemed disheveled and battered and yet an almost sweet calmness radiated from your being.

You had entered his mind. During a nightmare.

You had freed him from its clutches, brightening the deep darkness corrupting his brain, quelling the flames flaring, singeing his skin and burning his body—

He shook his head to ridden of the imagery.

Quick steps brought him back to his bed, seating himself back on the blue covers to distance himself from you, from the situation.

What exactly was that nightmare of his? All these flames, all the fire? The seeming torture? It had felt much too real to be mere images of his mind. The more he thought and pondered, the more the fire within him welled back up and he couldn’t help but find himself back in the middle of a void, flames all around him leaping at his skin as if desiring to devour him whole.

A small noise from nearby ripped him out of his thoughts, eyes finding their way to you as you writhed in pain on the ground despite your sleep, feet digging against the stone floor in invisible strain. Instinctively—and much to his surprise—he felt himself draw the pain back into himself, felt himself _**shield**_ you from it. Your body relaxed as the agony inside him grew, until he forced himself to calm down; more and more, until the flames were dimmed to a spark he put out with a whisk of air, with a breath.

Apparently the two of you had much more potential control over your connection than you knew.

The mere thought troubled him—much to his dismay. It would be quite the advantage after all, should he be capable of discarding all undesirable sensations and burden them on you.

But he just _**couldn’t**_. And he knew that.

Sure, the connection between the two of you was most likely at least partially to blame, but that wasn’t all there was to it. Apart from his mother you were the only person willing to come to the dungeons. To visit _**him**_. You had said so yourself after all—You came back for _**him**_ , every time again. Again and again, despite the hurtful words he had flung at you, despite the hostility he had presented you with.

And if the feeling always residing within him wouldn’t be forcing him to accept your undeniably genuine words as the truth, he would have still been doubting and questioning your motives.

As it was—

His eyes once more wandered to your now peacefully sleeping form, watching as you drew in a careful breath, watching how you gave a light twitch and uttered a quiet groan, most likely about to wake.

As it was, he was alright with having you around.

——————

The first thing you did once you opened your eyes was looking around for the Prince, gaze almost fearful if not panicked, with your eyebrows drawn together and mouth slightly agape. Until you found him, lazily seated on his bed, gold on the cover of a book in his hands casting a glittery light across the room to you.

“Hey...,” you called, sluggishly rubbing your eyes with the back of your hands while you shifted into a seated position, easing the sleepiness away.

It took him a while to look up from his book, taking the time to slowly turn the page first. Yet you knew it was just a farce.

“Hello.” There was silence for a couple of seconds. “Little One.”

Your eyes widened at first—hearing him use that same belittling nickname he had used on you since your first fateful encounter back on Earth. But the tone in his voice was different. Seeming sweet, soft. Almost appreciative. And his eyes catching yours lacked the stinging bite behind them, forced indifference replaced with thinly veiled gratitude; Ice lingering behind his glare nearly melted due to your last fierce and fiery encounter.

You accepted his way of addressing you with a bright smile.

His eyes strayed to the side, fixating something behind you and you turned only to find Ragnarr approaching with hesitant steps.

“Hey Ragnarr!” you exclaimed, waving him over and watching him visibly relax.

“Hello,” he replied, coming to a halt next to you, “And good morning!”

He offered the Prince a quick but gentle bow and you suppressed a laugh at Loki’s perplexed reaction, at the deep feeling of confusion echoing in the back of your mind.

The brunette offered you a hand and you took it, letting him eagerly pull you to your feet before you hastily tried to brush your clothes free from the dust and dirt. All the while you caught Ragnarr eyeing you carefully and you offered him a confused glance in response until he shared his thoughts with you.

“You look—“ his eyes moved over to the Prince, slowly taking in his still disheveled appearance as well— “Exhausted.”

You laughed.

“That’s a nice way to say ‘like a wreck’,” you spoke, giving his golden metallic shoulder plate a firm pat of reassurance, “But it’s alright. No need to worry, it’s all sorted out.”

“That is good to hear,” he replied in obvious relief, “I hope you did not mind me not waking you. I had noticed you quite a while earlier but you appeared to be fast asleep. I did not want to disturb you—not while you seemed so... _exhausted_.”

He seemed to address you as well as Loki with his words, but as the Prince decided to play as uninterested in the conversation as possible, you opted to answer in both of your stead.

“No, I’m glad you didn’t. Thank you.”

Yes, Loki was listening incredibly intently. You could almost feel him smile, feel the little spark of contentment turn into amusement—

[ _ **How very perceptive of you.**_ ]

“Great!” he exclaimed, shifting a bit in his stance and shuffling his feet. He looked almost troubled before he finally decided to add on,

“My shift is almost over. Would you like me to accompany you to your accommodations this time?”

You didn’t even need to ponder—Ragnarr already felt like a friend of yours after all these nights, which he had spent watching over you as you sat with Loki, after all the time the both had spent talking, laughing down in the dungeons during his shift.

Just for how long had you actually been sleeping after your intrusion of the Prince’s mind? There was no sun seeping through any possible cracks helping you to tell the time after all, leaving you to further wonder how Ragnarr could.

“Yes,” you said, answering his question and watching his eyes light up with excitement, “That would be nice.”

———

After hesitantly leaving Loki behind in the dungeons, you walked along the hallways next to Ragnarr with a surprisingly heavy feeling of dread and guilt following you like the shadow latched onto your feet, cast onto the floor next to you by the beams of sun filtering through the columns. Ragnarr, as sensitive to bad mood as he was sweet, opted to change that the only way he knew how.

And so he filled the silence you created by telling you stories; about his life, about Asgard. About his times on duty and off-duty, and you couldn’t help but laugh at his many mishaps.

“The first time I had arrived to my shift I had managed to trip,” he explained, a smile so bright it accentuated the dimples on his dark skin, “I had stumbled and fell right in front of Tyr, the commander of the Einherjar.”

He paused to open the door leading to your accommodations for you, loud laugh echoing along the walls.

“You might be able to imagine just how _embarrassed_ —“

He interrupted his sentence with a slight gasp, and you peaked behind him to discover Aldís standing in the middle of the room, arms crossed over her blue gown. Initially an expression of worry and slight frustration appeared to be etched on her soft features, but you watched it fade and be replaced with excitement in but a second.

“Ragnarr!” she exclaimed, freckles gleaming with her delight, sparkling like starts in the sky at night as she took quick steps over to him. He gave a bright laugh before opening his arms and pulling her into a hug, you watching from the sidelines.

She stepped out of his arms to look between the both of you with wide eyes.

“Why did you not tell me you knew each other?”

“I,” you began, wringing your hands, “I didn’t want you knowing how much time I spent down there.”

At her questioning gaze you added on, slight grin gracing your lips, “You keep fretting like a worried mother.”

Ragnarr’s delighted laugh ripped through the air.

“That is often the case, yes—“ he gave Aldís a quick, gentle pat on the shoulder before looking at you— “I must know. She is my sister.”

All of a sudden all of their similarities made a lot more sense. They even both shared their slightly rounded face shape, their full cheeks and kind eyes. With a can of tea, Aldís offered you to sit down and catch up, something you excitedly agreed to, knowing and fondly remembering its taste.

During the entirety of your conversation much more tea was consumed, along with little snacks; sweets and the breakfast Aldís had prepared. You had watched in fascination how animatedly Ragnarr’s expression shifted during your explanations; from slight anger to sorrow, from happiness to understanding. His face was terribly expressive, making it astonishingly easy for him to be read. Emotions practically poured out of him, so visibly it was much like some kind of aura pulsating with energy, being pushed out of his being with every beat.

Glancing from Ragnarr to Aldís and seeing, almost feeling the deep bond connecting them both you couldn’t help the sigh managing to tear through and past your lips, prompting the siblings to look up at you with questions looming behind their eyelids and resting on their tongues.

“I miss my family,” you finally said, hand picking on your clothes with your glance cast downwards. Images flashed in your mind upon seeing them like that—your family sitting with you and eating breakfast, sharing a laugh. Your best friend watching television with you, some kind of random movie they had wanted to watch for eons, because it was apparently _perfect_ for you.

“Heimdall,” Ragnarr’s voice suddenly speaking up made you raise your head to look at him, “He is capable of seeing everything and everyone in the entire universe.”

Ragnarr placed a hand on your shoulder, gently trying to comfort you.

“If you want to, we should perhaps go see him.”

The mere prospect of catching but a _glimpse_ —getting just a _snippet_ of info regarding their whereabouts made you spring to your feet in a haze.

“ _Yes_ ,” you said, “I would _love_ that.”

——————

With a new destination in mind the two of you were led outside of the palace by Ragnarr, who was off duty for the rest of the day. He had switched his golden guard uniform with something that seemed slightly more comfortable; a traditional, Asgardian gown in sky blue, fit enough to be used for fighting with its light silver plates for necessary protection of more vulnerable parts.

Aldís walked along next to you, wearing something rather similar to her everyday wear, only a darker blue than usual with a tint of violet. You started to suspect that she owned a lot of clothes which looked alike, only differences being a slight change in silvery webbed pattern rimming the hem of the gown or slight variance in hue, some of her dresses being a lighter blue, others a darker one.

As usual you switched your clothes back to the day wear handed to you by Aldís all these days ago, back when you had woken for the first time. It still fascinated you, how they were obviously aimed to look more like your natural wear while keeping some core aspects of Asgardian outfits—most notable, the light pattern on it.

The inconsistency made you feel even more out of place, but with the coat draped over you, hiding most of you under its heavy fabric you felt more comfortable in your skin among people much more powerful and knowledgeable than you.

After the usual hallways, Ragnarr finally walked up to a more than just gigantic set of double doors, casting a grin at the soldiers positioned left and right, who opened them with a nod. In a quick motion your hand shot up to your face, shielding you from the harsh and bright sunlight casting a strong ray of light onto you. Once you blinked a few times, getting used to the brightness, you could finally cast a look at Asgard laying in front of you, in all its beauty and glory. The sun reflected off the walls of the castle next to you, casting its light onto the many plants and the enormous amounts of water flowing through the skillfully crafted architecture.

With a bright smile you hopped down the marble steps, Ragnarr getting caught up in your enthusiasm and joining you while Aldís had some trouble following you along. You moved through alleys sheltered by bridges, plants akin to ivy adorning the stone and gold, vines creeping along the cracks in the walls like veins. You passed waterfalls dropping into the depths right next to you, pushing yourself up against the railing to watch different rivers of water coming together in one gigantic flow dropping right down below and into nothingness.

The path led you to the market, walking past booths and houses, watching vendors shout for their newest ware while taking a few looks yourself. All the while you were laughing with the siblings along the way, eyes glistening with tears due to your excessive laughter, listening to Ragnarr delving into one of his many, exaggerated stories, getting so excited that Aldís had to interject and correct him every now and then.

Once the sun dipped below the horizon, tinting the world a light purple before it would eventually switch to a dark blue, you were tugged along to finally meet up with Heimdall.

Ecstatic as you still were, you had a skip in your step as you watched your feet touch the colorful bridge, watched it react to your steps with a quick pulse, brightening the colors even further. The golden building, an observatory as you were told, seemed to almost glow despite the lack of light, reaching much further above your head than you would have thought from afar.

A sudden rush of nervousness caught up with you making you halt mid-step in front of the entrance. You were gone for quite a while already, what should your family and friends even believe of you? Kidnapped? Dead? Kidnapped _and_ dead? You weren’t sure what you would have believed in their stead. Perhaps they had even moved on already, waiting but a month before letting you go?

Sensing your nerves, Ragnarr placed a calming hand on your shoulder, gently forcing you to look at him. The smile he beamed at you, equaling even the sun in its intensity made you forget about your fears for long enough to step across the threshold and into the gleaming building. The inside was as glistening and golden as you remembered in your vague memory contorted by pain. Not a single spot of the room was colored any differently; gigantic sword placed in the middle of the chamber on a pedestal with the man in golden armor—the man you remembered you were looking for—standing right behind it, raising an eyebrow at the three of you but with the hint of a smile gracing his face.

“Welcome,” he spoke, voice seeming distant but radiating an intense warmth while he addressed the three of you by your name. You opted to not question that.

“You are here for your family, is that correct?” he continued on and you could merely nod, much too fascinated by his abilities. You noted how his gaze on you left room for objections, enough time for you to rethink your decision—but you only shook your head to his unasked question.

“Yes, I’d like to know,” you replied, watching as he closed his eyes and everything was plunged into deathly quiet. Nothing in the room moved while he concentrated and you could practically feel his intense focus burning through time and space. When he opened his eyes back up they appeared saddened, but hopeful.

“Your relatives and acquaintances are well,” he started off, placing his hands on the handle of the sword in front of him, “You have been declared missing, yet your family and friends are convinced that you will return eventually.”

In that moment all you could do was smile through thinly veiled tears.

Whatever Fury might have in store for you—You decided to not care anymore. Your family and friends were waiting for you, each passing day leading to them further losing a slight bit of hope left residing within them while they awaited and anticipated your sudden arrival.

With a much more hopeful and determined mood bubbling out of you like water out of a fountain you once more resumed the skip in your step, walking back across the bridge with Aldís and Ragnarr to head back inside after a day spent happily and in contentment.

———

In the following days you continued to visit Loki as always, sitting perched on the stone floor and intently listening to whatever he talked to you about. He had gotten much more docile, and it was obvious. Every now and then you would catch him shooting you a light smile—barely visible, easy to miss and yet, when you caught it, incredibly genuine.

“The book you keep reading,” you spoke up, and like a silent reply he turned in his seat to shoot a look at it, resting on the table, “What is it about?”

He had been studying it intently since you had first visited him in the dungeons, tiny, truly simplistic bookmark placed somewhere along in the first couple of pages. You had watched it shift position every time, stuck somewhere at the end before moving back to the front—marking it read more than just ten times already.

Your eyes moved from the golden glistening cover back to him just as he turned back around, facial expression oddly unreadable. Even his thoughts seemed terribly and unusually closed off, as if he did all he could to hide them from you, stop them from seeping through the link.

He moved his mouth, taking a breath to prepare for a reply.

“Let us hope you will never need to find out.”

——————

It had been a month since he had been send by the All-Father to solve a gridlocked, political situation in one of the nine realms situated under Asgard’s protection. His heart was still heavily weighed down by the newest revelations regarding his little brother, weighed down by the worry lingering in the back of his mind regarding your current condition. And under such condition it was truly difficult for him at times, to try and talk his way through with the stubborn leaders persisting on their separate opinions. Sometimes he would honestly rather just pick up Mjölnir to solve this seemingly unsolvable situation the traditional Asgardian way.

He refused to even try and recite the number of times he had entertained the thought alone.

It had been one, exhausting, tiring month—now Thor was back, knocking firmly on your door and waiting for your affirmative consent to enter your room.

Waiting to bring you the News.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I didn’t mess up too badly—tons of school work and I’m way too close to falling asleep right now.
> 
> I have decided to stray some more from the movies, definitely. Bring in another batch of characters later on! :)


	17. Making of Memories

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Prince is back and a memory revealed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Trigger Warning!—  
> Descriptions of Angst, Physical Violence/Torture

“You did _what_ six hundred years ago??”

Your excited but confused yell tore through the room you were currently residing in while you almost spilled your tea with your sudden laughter. The light shining through the windows from outside illuminated your surroundings, casting a bright and happy glow on the patterned wall beside you and the red carpet below your feet.

“He almost fell off of Asgard, yes!” Aldís cleared up, tears brimming her eyes with her own suppressed laugh. The silver embroidery on her blue gown lightly reflected some of the light, glistening in the sun.

“I was _curious_ ,” Ragnarr fought to defend himself with a smile, hands wildly gesticulating, “I had only ever seen it in books—I had wanted to see it for _myself_.”

The atmosphere surrounding the three of you was a joyous one, a relaxed one. Over the course of time, you had gotten to know each other a lot more than you would have thought possible at first, making you feel a lot less like a stranger on an unknown planet, making your forget about the lingering reason as to why you were even still tolerated at such a divine place.

That sweet, joyous atmosphere was interrupted by a sudden knock on the door. It caught you off guard, completely so, as you practically stumbled out of the chair to hastily reply with a ‘yes’.

There was a drop hovering in the air, abruptly pulling the happiness the three of you had felt down from the mirthful height and instead sending it spiraling down to a sudden darkness. With a creak, room having grown so quiet that it was all that filled the silence, the door opened and revealed a face you hadn’t expected to see in a while.

“... _Thor_ ,” you breathed, eyes wide and mouth agape as you saw Aldís and Ragnarr stand up out of the corner of your eyes, giving a quick curtsy to their returning Prince.

“Yes,” he replied, voice uncharacteristically tired as he gently closed the door behind him, “I have news regarding your inquiry.”

Your heart plummeted in your chest, sinking to the ground as the gravity of the situation sunk in almost immediately. The way things were at the moment you had indeed almost completely managed to forget the very reason you were still on Asgard—the memories residing within you which didn’t belong to you and which had been oddly still lately, now that you started pondering it.

With steps sounding too heavy he shuffled over to the three of you, pulling a free chair to sit down. It squeaked almost pathetically as the dark wood scraped across the floor, your own eyes cast on the ground still trying to process the sudden shift, sound but mere background noise. He dropped down onto it like a bag of flour would and began by clearing his throat, casting a glance at you as if to quietly ask whether you were alright with having it discussed openly and in front of everyone.

There was a lot he had missed while he was gone—not knowing about the friendship the three of you already shared. You gave a hesitant nod.

“My father, the King,” he began, shifting as he most likely felt your unease, “He has finally consented to your request. I am here to inform you that he has set the day for returning the memories to tomorrow at noon.”

Aldís, eyes still wide and still keeping her focus on the Prince, rose from her seat in a haze to fetch another cup from one of the cabinets nearby before offering tea to the Prince in an eerily stiff movement. His hands moved to hold the mug, warming them up as he gave a grateful nod.

“I will personally come to accompany you,” he continued on, radiating a certain sense of responsibility you struggled to place, “I hope that this is alright?”

You gave another jerky nod, cup perhaps clutched a bit too tightly in your hands as you felt the hot liquid running down your cold, clammy fingers.

It was exactly what you wanted though, wasn’t it? So what was that sudden string of nerves all about? The tension in the air still persisted as you took a hesitant sip to distract yourself from it, watching everyone doing the same as if thinking alike.

“How have you been?” you mumbled, sentence barely sounding like a question as you quieted at the end, focus drifting off.

There was silence before Thor gathered that you had addressed him.

“I have been fine,” he replied, trying to appear convincing and calm, but in the face of your not exactly well hidden, apparent panic he couldn’t help but worry indeed, “It has been stressful, but I am alright.”

His answers were without heart and oddly generic, a definite sign that everyone’s attention was elsewhere, most likely on you. Their gazes only aided in intensifying the burning sensation once more radiating from inside of you, eyes burning holes from all around you as you took a deep breath.

Yes, returning the memories to Loki was important to you—No, your _priority_ even, as you had said a long while ago. Why was all of this a problem now? Why did all the panic within you decide to surge up now, burning and twisting your insides so much you felt yourself physically grow warmer, hot even?

[ _ **...**_ ]

There was something, weak and frail trying to break through the hazy fire of your mind, yet it seemed utterly futile as no words made it over to you. But the feeling getting carried along with it seemed frighteningly familiar, so much so that you knew it could have only been one person.

One person feeling your obvious distress even from afar and trying to contact you, talk to you.

[ _...Loki?_ ]

There was no reply. There was only the same sensation continuing to flood your system and you felt yourself close your eyes and relax; quickened breathing slowing down, fastened heartbeat returning to a normal and steady one and your much too warm skin growing colder.

He was calming you, somehow.

Whatever he was doing was working and you tried to send him all the gratitude you could find within you, even though you didn’t know how, even though you didn’t know if that was how this connection even worked.

“ _Hey_ —“ Someone was shaking your shoulder, lightly but urgently and your name was being repeated without pause while you came to— “Is everything alright?”

All three of them looked at you with worry in their eyes while you began to finally come to understand what was going on. Ragnarr’s hands were placed firmly on your shoulders and you took in a huge breath, letting it slowly ease out of your nose while you calmed, very light smile finding its way back to your face as you got ahold of his wrists.

“Yes,” you mumbled back, “I’m okay.”

—————

After you had calmed significantly, slowly coming to terms with being confronted by something you had apparently tried to forget, the four of you had picked up light conversation. Albeit few information had been given, you now knew a bit more about the mission Thor’s father had sent him on while the King himself ‘pondered’ your request. A mission that had seemed to periodically bring him close to the brink of his patience—way too close for comfort. And in no time the four of you had been back to joking around, sharing parts of what the other had missed and laughing along with Ragnarr’s jokes.

Once Thor had left, taking Aldís and Ragnarr with him for preparations as you had thoroughly and continuously told them that you were good enough to stay alone, you let your body fall backwards into the bed, thoughts running in circles so much you seemed to grow dizzy. Your palms found their way to your eyes, rubbing relentlessly against them, all the way until everything grew blurry and littered with stars as you were too frustrated and to deep in thought to stop.

Every now and then, when you felt yourself growing more and more stressed, another light surge of pain would run through you, causing you to twist and twitch.

There was something pushing itself to the front of your mind, all the way from the very back of it to slowly but defiantly creep into your consciousness—despite your body _obviously_ fighting to keep it under lock and key. You felt the strain as if you had been doing muscle workout nonstop for the past month.

Something was trying to show itself to you, though what you did not know.

Yet with each passing second it seemed to inch closer and closer to its goal and you could only try to distract yourself while trying to fight it. It felt like claws emanating from the very floor, reaching out to grasp you from below and you could sense yourself getting encased by it, moving like shadows through the darkness. It was starting to obstruct your field of vision, growing darker until the void was seeping like ink into your eyes. You felt it taking over your sight and filling it with visions of something else while your heartbeat sounded through your very throat with terrible intensity.

The little twinge of something else trying to get your attention was ignored as your mind was blackened; as you lost consciousness over your body, lost even the sensation of your hands tightly gripping onto the blanket in terror.

It was the last, unknown _memory_ trying to break free.

Once the void of darkness subsided _**you**_ found yourself in unknown territory, blackness still lingering in the sky speckled with stars, galaxies and nebula. The rock hard ground beneath you dug against your knees as you were pushed down from behind, coldness seeping into your bones from below only barely managing to cool your overheating system. Your arms burned where they were restrained behind your back, twisted just the slightest amount to elicit the constant feeling of them being milliseconds before being dislocated and you bit your lip to keep the scream from tearing out, bit your lip to stop it from trembling, from giving away the true panic you were feeling.

You gave a tug at your restraints, body feeling heavy like lead, as unresponsive as a marionette without its puppeteer and your tries at movements were promptly met with the restraints tightening, heavy and hot breath lingering in your ear.

“You still dare defy our master?” it spoke, voice but a rough, scratchy noise in your overtly sensitive ear and the fire surrounding your wrists grew so hot you could but hear white noise for a moment, body accustoming to the pain as you were too proud to scream, “You will have to learn.”

The heat on your hands spread, traveling up your arms as your body trembled despite your hardest attempts at keeping it from doing so, flames swallowing your arms and moving to your face. You twisted and turned your head, trying to move your face out of its grasp, but even so the fire reached its destination, scream finally tearing out of your throat in agonizing intensity. A scream filled with petrifying pain, terrible panic, but also incredible amounts of anger and rage shot through the cold air around you.

Your face switched to silent rage once the agony slightly subsided, eyebrows drawing together as you squinted your eyes with a smoldering and dangerous glare.

It evaporated once you heard the voice.

_**His**_ voice.

“Oh my,” he spoke, low voice deeply sickening to your ringing ears as you raised your head recklessly despite the pain, looking him into the eyes as he approached. One of the hands encircling your wrist moved to your head, burying itself in your hair—long enough to easily be yanked—black strand falling in your face as the creature behind you forced your head down, towards the ground until your nose almost seemed to touch it.

Just because you couldn’t see the purplish titan approaching, didn’t mean you couldn’t feel it, couldn’t hear his steps strolling closer, almost leisurely so, almost disappointedly coming closer to where you kneeled on the floor.

“Master,” the being behind you squeaked as the steps came to a halt, grip momentarily tightening on your shivering, feverish body.

“ _ **Thanos**_ ,” you spoke, voice deep but horse and rough from the screaming. The tone in your voice was terribly sarcastic and you knew it was a bad idea—a deadly idiotic, dramatically overconfident idea to try and pretend you had any kind of control over the situation, any kind of say in the matter or were, for a fact, not trembling so much everyone was bound to hear your teeth chatter along with the tremble in your voice.

The man merely gave a chuckle.

“Have you still not learned your lesson?—“ He kneeled and you grit your teeth as he got ahold of your hair, raising your face to eye level, catching your gaze with burning intensity— “I had given you enough chances to prove your loyalty.”

You collected saliva and blood in your mouth, spitting it on the floor in front of him as a drop of crimson slid down your lips, dribbling down your chin and falling to the ground.

The man let go off your hair with a push, head hanging limp in exhaustion as if waiting for the executioner to free your shoulders from its burden.

“Still as defiant as ever,” he spoke, and you watched through your black hair falling in front of your eyes like a curtain as he reached behind himself, reached for a silvery, round object handed to him by one of his many loyal henchmen. Your blood froze deathly cold in your veins as he opened it, yellow shining light from within betraying its actual purpose, its capabilities.

You writhed in the creature’s grip as your thoughts ran wild, having deduced Thanos’ immediate following action just as he took the stone in his hand, power surging through his body not enough to overwhelm his sick and twisted mind.

The fire intensified and you could only scream in rage and fury, in terror and panic as Thanos stepped closer to end your strong and seemingly endless disobedience.

You couldn’t stop the single tear easing out of your eye, sliding down your charred cheek as you continued to defiantly stare at the titan, hatred burning hotter than the sun could ever dream to be, hatred overtaking your mind, killing and overriding all rational thoughts that had once resided within.

“Yes,” Thanos spoke, “ _This_ is the right thing to feel.”

With a satisfied smirk he pressed the yellow pulsating stone against your forehead, your scream dying out in mere seconds as your mouth simply hung open wide, white noise replacing your inner voice and turning into thoughts, into images, into _**memories**_.

Your consciousness faded as you felt yourself being eradicated, overwritten by negative, painful emotions, by hurt and anger and hatred, by loneliness and grief. It felt like being torn apart, something deep inside getting twisted and turned, destroyed, remolded, reshaped; over and over again and you could barely still feel the scream clogging your throat, suffocating you.

You couldn’t move, you couldn’t think.

You couldn’t _**be**_.

Your were being remade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woa I think I can only ever write dramatic scenes—I tend to struggle writing scenes in which everything is relaxed...
> 
> Anyways, finally bringing in some interesting stuff!
> 
> Currently kind of sick so I hope I can keep up!


	18. Shared Sensations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> That memory didn’t come without a terrible, emotional toll.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Trigger Warning!—
> 
> Descriptions of Angst and Panic Attacks

With a leap you fell out of bed, harsh and sudden contact with the floor nothing to you as your hands moved all across your face, making sure you were actually _you_ , you were _fine_. Tears welled up without any thought, overflowing from your eyes and dripping down your face in thick, heavy streams, one after the other.

You could still remember being torn apart, being unmade. Being destroyed from the inside out, set together anew. You could still hear _Thanos_ ’ voice echoing in your broken and cloudy mind, so much so that you didn’t notice the silent call resonating along with it, low rumble of the titan’s voice prompting you to grip, almost claw your head in trying to make it stop.

_Thanos_.

That name came to you just as the memory had, feeling as if you had known it for years, despite having heard it for the first time. It repeated over and over in your mind, the whimpers escaping your dry throat unable to drown out the screams you could still hear from what you had witnessed, unable to drown out the voice of the one person you had talked through a nightmare, that had talked to you until late at night—the voice of a person that shared a part of your _soul_ , and vice versa.

You couldn’t drown out _his_ voice all warped and garbled, petrified and enraged as he screamed for his life whilst being unmade.

All of it was loud enough to make you not hear the door barreling open and practically slamming against the wall in a rush, loud enough to barely even make you feel the sensation of someone gently clutching your shoulders and speaking to you, shaking you, hand moving to calmly stroke your arm.

“It’s me, _please_ ,” a soft, petrified voice spoke, “Please calm down, breathe with me, alright?”

Numbers were counted, over and over until you could finally comprehend them, finally comprehend what was going on, taking deep breaths in and deep breaths out, focusing on the feeling of your expanding and deflating lungs rather than on the desperate cries, focusing on your heart beating in your chest until you noticed how it slowed, further and further down so much you could begin to once more hear your own thoughts.

You blinked through your tears, first noting her brown hair in a messy bun on her head before your vision cleared enough to barely notice her face; the sunken eyes with the dark bags, the palish skin, tired expression and disheveled blue clothes.

“Ten seconds, alright?” you heard her speak again, nodding your head and doing as she told, holding your breath while she moved one hand to visibly help you count. The turmoil inside you raged on even as your thoughts began to clear up, clear enough for you to notice a voice breaking through in its midst; tearing through like a reporter through radio static once the reception was at its limit.

A teardrop slid to the floor as you once more heard his voice, barely.

**_[—you alright?]_ **

He almost sounded pained himself and it reminded you way too much of what you had seen, what you had felt mere moments ago, forcing you to grit you teeth as you imagined building a wall around your mind out of pure instinct. It felt almost natural, the sensation of separating parts of your being momentarily from his—something you had been doing for a while, albeit to a much weaker extent as you tried to protect yourself from other people’s thoughts.

There was distress seeping through as your connection faltered even further, until the only thing you could hear was your own inner voice and the noises of your surroundings.

Your desperate breathing. Your thumping heart. Aldís voice in your ear.

You focused on that instead, until you could actively make out Aldís in front of you, still gripping your shoulders. There was a spark of recognition as she noticed you were back from your panicked inner isolation, her hand moving as she held the back of it against your forehead, checking your temperature, quickly moving to your wrist and checking your pulse.

“It is alright,” she cooed, taking your trembling hand in hers as she noted it slightly hovering in the air as if reaching for something, “It is alright, I am here, don’t worry.”

She filled the silence with little consolations, never letting the quiet overwhelm you as she managed to numb your thoughts with her voice. You barely even felt the tears still trickling down your chin, falling onto the sheets and leaving behind littles marks, little reminders of the terror you had seen.

———

“One of his memories.”

Your hands were still trembling ever so slightly as you held onto the cup she had given you, stare blankly hanging onto the embellishments decorating it in golden swirls as if your only lifeline.

“One of his memories just...forced itself into my mind,” you spoke, shuddering as a remnant of the sensation crawled through your body like a shiver up your spine, “I still feel it.”

The pictures you had seen most likely wouldn’t leave your scarred and broken mind anytime soon. Just who was that man, that terrible creature? Who was he to hurt Loki like that?

You bit your lip as you couldn’t help but ponder—what you had witnessed was the moment his mind had been manipulated, without any doubts. The moment he had been unmade, his thoughts, hopes, worries and fears. Whatever he had been before—changed and warped into someone cruel enough to attack and destroy an entire city, lying waste to it as he watched his army murdering its inhabitants. As he tried to kill you.

Your name brought you back to reality.

“Do you...” she paused, glance falling to her lap for a second before moving back to you, “Do you want to talk about it?”

You shook your head, feeling almost mechanical as your mind seemed blank, a mere unwritten white sheet made of paper, lightly damp making it sunken and slack. Aldís gave a nod, her eyes glistening with sorrow as her thumb quickly stroked the back of your hand in reassuring, soft and gentle movements.

After a while. making sure you were truly calmed once more, she quickly excused herself to fetch something to eat for you. You had declined, stating that you were fine, but she had insisted and returned with speed unmatched, presenting you with a steaming bowl of food and what appeared to be a batch of cookies emitting a pleasantly chocolatey smell.

She gently placed the tray on top of the blanket, taking some tea for yourself while you carefully got ahold of the broth she brought you, sweet smell further calming your mind.

“It contains specific herbs,” she replied, having caught your inspecting gaze, “They are used to help with anxiety and similar conditions.”

And indeed, you could feel the warmth spreading from your stomach help in easing the knot your troubled thoughts had tied themselves into.

Once you were finished she advised you to rest, collecting the cutlery and moving to leave you, but promising to return whenever you would need her.

“My room is close enough for me to hear your call,” she had said, “I will pay attention to it.”

Just as she opened the door, you spoke up.

“Just—“ she halted hearing your voice, her hand hovering on the halfway opened wooden door— “I don’t want him to go through the same.”

The taste of salt appeared on your lips as you felt them tremble, clenching your jaw in response to the burst of emotions flooding you once more. You heard the door creak as Aldís eased it closed, taking another couple of steps back to sit on the bed next to you, tray on her lap.

“I understand,” she spoke, sadness seeping from her as much as it did from you, “But I believe he has already made this decision for you.”

You glanced up, right as another tear dropped down your cheek, eyebrows drawing together as you watched her own teary eyes. Few sunlight tore through the curtains as it was close to dusk, yet enough sunlight to illuminate the already dried trails left behind by earlier tears.

“I am sure he would rather wish to know what has happened,” she continued on, voice calm and collected despite her obvious distress, “To him a piece of himself is missing, and he wants to know _who_ he is—This might be the only possibility for him to find out.”

And with that she disappeared out of the door, little candle she had left behind for you to not sit in the night showing just how dark it had gotten. How long she had been with you, consoling you.

———

Despite the eventful day and you not having gotten any sleep, despite Aldís well meaning words to you, asking you to rest—you couldn’t. All of which you had seen started replaying in your mind as soon as you closed your eyes and you couldn’t help but trying and forcing your eyelids to stay open, forcing yourself to think of anything else.

Yet focusing on the curtains swaying in the gentle breeze, or locking eyes with the eerily illuminated painting hanging to your left on the wall could not make you stray for long enough from the problem at hand. Barely feeling the pull moving your legs to stand your body acted on its own accord, as it walked out of the door, past the twitching shadows hushing on the walls created by blazing fires and through the hallways lined with soft, crimson carpets.

Right in this moment you could only feel crushed under the deep darkness, feeling tiny and utterly vulnerable in comparison to the paths you were walking through with shuffling, hurried steps.

_Where_ were you even going?

Shifting through your messed up mind you turned piece after piece of voice over voice and could not find a single trace of _his_. Where had he been while you had relived his memory? Did your connection make him feel your distress only or did he have to live through it as well?

———

“You are cutting me off.”

It was the first thing greeting you once you had tumbled down the stairs, even before you had fully entered the hall containing Asgard’s worst enemies. Not quite registering the pained loneliness dripping from his words and noticing the lack of actual bitterness you shuffled on, almost shielding your face against the hot flames brightening the path like you had been trying to shield yourself from his words all day long.

But being down here set your actual intentions far, far back, and so you said nothing as you crossed the few steps over to him. Said nothing even as you heard a vague intake of air coming from him, most likely due to seeing the state you were in.

Which was just the right amount to elicit a ‚I-really-don‘t-care’ attitude from you regarding your appearance. Yet you couldn’t help but feel the remnants of hysteria lingering in the way your stare was blank and unfocused, the way your clothes hung slightly askew across your shoulders and the way you could feel your eyes still burning with the desire to cry whenever your attention cleared for long enough to notice the Prince in his cell.

How he stood up more quickly than he meant to, how his eyes narrowed as he took in your appearance and his heap of conflicting emotions—all of which together was strong enough to momentarily break through to you, made you _feel_ his reaction to what he saw.

“ _ **Why**_ ,” he spoke and you flinched involuntarily, causing him to pause for longer than he intended as he shifted in his approach.

“ _ **What**_ have you seen?”

His statement was the first thing managing to actually pull you out of the trance you had been in since the memory had revealed itself to you and your eyes snapped up to meet his with sudden terror.

He didn’t look any better than you did, no.

Not emotionally so. You could see that he had tried to hide his actual emotions rather well by taking care of his appearance, but from what you felt blossoming within him like a thunderstorm waiting to rain down in buckets of water you understood that the link managed to carry across _most_ if not all of what you had felt during his memory.

His eyes were just as empty as yours even as he narrowed them and through them you could see a mirrored reflection of yourself.

“What—“ he continued and you couldn’t help but flinch, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly stars began to dance through the void before you. His mouth closed with an audible snap as he stayed still, as he most likely stared at you expectantly instead.

“It’s—“ you swallowed, swaying a bit in your step— “Your _voice_. It’s your voice, it just...”

The hoarse, pained sound of him screaming until his throat was raw echoed once more in your head as you watched his perplexed reaction shift to barely veiled terror, and it was only then that you noticed the taste of salt on your lips. You bit down on it, hard, to keep the sobs starting to crawl out of your body at bay, preferring the pain in your mouth over the agony in your head as it kept you grounded, as it helped you discern reality from a memory that wasn’t yours.

Oh, but it was reality for someone _else_ , wasn’t it?

He didn’t continue on but as you looked up through blurry eyes you barely caught the conflict raging in his own mind.

“Your memory—“ you tried to ignore the way your voice wavered and broke, displaying just how broken and scared you actually were—much like a shattered mirror, torn into fragments that seemed beyond repair and promising of misfortune, misfortune to the one, poor soul staring at the splintered shards lying before him on the ground. As if _he_ was the one who caused it to fall. As if _he_ was to blame for the destruction.

“It was terrible.”

No words could possibly be enough to describe just how much so.

He contemplated replying but apparently thought better of it, almost rushing to brush a black strand of hair out of his eyes instead and you really tried to not remember it falling in front of his face as his body was flooded with adrenaline, as he screamed in terror—

“Did you... _see_...anything?” you asked, breaking through the panicked voice in your head and hesitating just the slightest moment, attempting to accept being unable to evade his voice for the rest of your life.

Upon giving you a long, hard stare, he answered,

“No. I only remember deep anguish, terror and fury.”

His posture almost seemed oddly stiff, barely moving an inch as he stood still opposite of you behind the barrier, hands in front of him intertwined and twitching only the tiniest of fractions. He was waiting for you to flinch upon hearing his voice—and you fought not to.

“I see.”

There was a breath easing itself out of your throat, sounding like a broken wail much to your dismay and you moved the palm of your hand to your eyes, rubbing the trail of tears away.

The both of you stood unmoving for much longer, with all the hesitation lingering in the air rendering the both of you unable to talk, stood for much longer, until your legs felt heavy and you coerced yourself into sinking into a sitting position, almost falling to the floor like a heavy sack of flour being discarded by an exhausted retail worker.

Barely looking up you caught him carefully moving into a crouching position, pondering, before seating himself on the floor with his body leaning forward ever so slightly, hands on his lap. His skin was much paler than you initially realized, black circles lining his eyes not intentional as the both of you watched each other in silence.

You broke it first.

“I’m scared.”

It came out small and frail, as if you yourself had screamed through the memory—which, perhaps, you did.

“Why?” he replied surprisingly carefully, lacking any kind of sarcastic bite you were used to since you had come to visit him almost every day for the past weeks.

“I’m supposed to finally give you your memories back,” you spoke, eyes focused only on your hands fiddling with the fabric of the coat falling on your lap, “Tomorrow. At noon.”

The fabric was stiff and rough between your fingers as you clutched it, pinched it and drew tiny, meaningless symbols on it to distract yourself.

“I am sure you had said this to be something you wanted,” he replied after a few seconds had ticked by, voice velvet and soft but still feeling like sandpaper to your mind. Now you did look up, through the blurry, teary haze.

“Yes—“ your hand moved to wipe across your face in one, quick motion, hoping to clear your vision but only resulting in letting another tear trickle to the floor— “But what I’ve _seen_ , I—“

You swallowed the saliva threatening to clog your throat, noting how your hands had begun to tremble and you clenching them to fists to stop them.

“I don’t want to anymore.”

With a breath leaving your mouth in exhaustion the fortress you had build up inside your mind crumbled to pieces and you only watched Loki as all your feelings and emotions filled up his mind, causing him to grit his teeth and close his eyes. The same pain you felt seeped from his face, the same shock caused his limbs to tremble and the same fear for tomorrow caused his breathing to quicken.

He attempted to swallow it down.

“You are hurt.”

It was as if he didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to cope with all the new sensations roaming his body as he fought to keep them under control. A smile eased onto your face at him trying to stay casual through the agony the both of you were feeling.

“Yes,” you replied, closing your eyes as well, “I am.”

Only your breathing filled the silence as you listened to him growing calmer alongside you, coming to terms with your emotions as the proximity of your souls calmed you like a sweet lullaby.

“The memories,” he spoke suddenly, causing you to open your eyes and tilt your head at his resolute and determined expression while he tried to seem cold and indifferent—tried to appear as if he had managed to actually cope with all these emotions, “They are an essential part of me I want to understand. I need you to hand them back to me.”

“...Even if they’re really, _really_ terrible?” you asked, and _god_ knew ‘terrible’ still didn’t _nearly_ hit the mark considering the sweat you could still feel pooling on your forehead as the mere remedy of that creature’s voice grew louder and louder. It made you feel like watching a fire spread in a house while remaining seated in the middle of it all, waiting to let the flames engulf you whole as if you knew you couldn’t escape—

“Yes,” he broke the chain of miserable worries plaguing you and encircling you like a snake its prey, “Even then.”

The determination had stayed on his face, green eyes practically glowing with it in the dark dungeons and calming you as you clung onto their light. You gave a slight nod with a smile, bittersweet but genuine, which he countered with his eyebrows drawing together in a confused frown. Aldís had been right, with everything she had said. Apparently she knew him much better than she let on after all these decades of their mothers being friends.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, quiet to not disrupt the sort of serenity covering you.

Water drops could be heard, forcing themselves through the cracks of the ceiling looming above, slowly dripping down and hitting the stone floor before further seeping into the cracks and disappearing from view. The inhabitants of the cells littered though the room could be heard, their snores as they were fast asleep through the darkness of the catacombs below the castle, dreams filled with hopes of better times.

“What for?” he inquired, voice just as calm and soft as yours and your smile only widened further in response.

“Easing my worries.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn’t quite update my status on here as well as I did on Quotev?
> 
> I’m sick, just barely managed to post ‘on time’ haha—Flu symptoms and stuff (We’ll just believe it’s not Corona, but it’s not as if I’m leaving the house either way)
> 
> Hope you’ll all stay healthy!


	19. May a Chapter End with Ease

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s time to give back what has been taken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —A Little Note!—  
> Text in square brackets written in [bold/italics] and [italics only] means that Loki and You are communicating over the soul connection, so please make sure that you can see it for easier understanding!
> 
> Also:
> 
> Slight Trigger Warning!

The next day approached much more quickly than you had anticipated.

A soft knock wound its way into your sleep and woke you, yawn escaping your throat as you moved to sit up in your borrowed bed in your borrowed room. You had talked with the imprisoned Prince for much longer than you had thought you would, having barely made your way up the stairs in exhaustion and merely managed to collapse on top of the soft, almost velvet blankets before you were lulled to sleep in an instant.

Your eyes threatened to close once more as you gave an affirmative call, trying to ease the remnants of rest out of of the corner of your eyes with a gentle rub, momentarily blurring your view as you caught Aldís’ familiar colors—blue and brown—stepping through the door. The more your sight cleared, the more you found your mouth to gape. Her usual attire seemed much more festive than before; dark hair held up in an elegant updo, silver hair clip keeping even the wildest strands in its grasp, blue gown embellished with many more silvery threads. Even the sleeves, which were long and faded to a purple at the bottom hem, had an almost festive looking pattern encircling it upwards like a snake.

The only thing that matched her look from yesterday were her eyes; blue dimmed to a gray gleaming with remaining sorrow like rain clouds pushing themselves in front of the glowing sun, a contrast to her dark skin as she obviously recalled the events of the day before. Catching your worried frown she cast you a slim smile, almost apologetical and kind of... _sheepish_?

And then she took a step aside—you would have spluttered with your drink if you had had any, and could only be glad that you were going thirsty instead.

Directly behind her stood the Queen herself, who you recognized from the painting hanging with you in the same room; a yellow gown draped elegantly from her shoulders and her light hair in a similar updo to Aldís’, only much more meticulously pinned to her head with two strands framing her face in soft curls. She entered with her hands folded in front of her, posture straight up and her head held high.

You scrambled to stand, almost falling to the floor as your feet got caught up in the blanket dropping to the floor in your rush.

The Queen, head of the kingdom and person having aided in your recovery, who had also taken time out of her day to figure out what could have possibly befallen you...and person having seen you half dead back when you had been brought to Asgard knocked out cold, stood in the room with you _right now_ , watching you struggle in her presence.

How _embarrassing_.

“Your, your High—your _Majesty_ ,” you blurted out, scrambling to remember correct etiquette as you had never before been confronted so directly with royalty, royalty that _acted the part_ that is. Sure, there was Thor who had introduced himself to you as a Prince, and Loki, who the former had referred to as his brother and therefore declared of royal descent as well.

But the two of them simply didn’t carry the grace the Queen standing before you did, the wisdom surrounding her along with a serene beauty not many people could possibly carry.

In other words, she was a _Queen_.

With your heart beating in your throat all the way up to your ears you almost didn’t catch Aldís properly introducing the both of you to each other and only reacted with an improvised, clumsy curtsy once you recalled your name being said.

The smile coming from her in response calmed you almost immediately.

“Dear, there is no need to fret,” she spoke, voice just as filled with warmth as the sunlight filtering through the glass leaving sunspots on the red carpet, “I have merely arrived to express my gratitude.”

Your mouth fell open ever so slightly against all forms of proper etiquette you had ever been taught.

“ _Huh_?”

“You have aided my son quite a lot over the course of your stay on Asgard,” she explained, her honest smile slowly but surely melting the tension you felt away like the wax of a candle burning down, “I have observed his progress thoroughly and have taken note of it during my visits.”

She took a step closer to where you were standing amidst the blanket on the carpet, sunlight bathing her making her look even more of a goddess and you shot Aldís a helpless look, yet she merely grinned in response.

“I am aware that he has caused great difficulties on Midgard and I thank you for your unparalleled diligence in helping him in spite of all he has inflicted on your kind.”

You could only feel the blood rush to your face at her words, involuntarily taking a step back to steady yourself and almost tripping over all the cloth draping down from the bed in heaps of fabric.

“This—“ you swallowed, averting your eyes, “This is nothing to thank me for, your Majesty.”

“Nonsense!” She gave a light laugh, gently grasping your hand as if to aid you in feeling her sincerity—not that you needed it, reading it clearly in her eyes, “Please do accept my gratitude.“

With a last, sweet look at you she turned around and motioned to Aldís, who gave a quick curtsy in response.

“I will be leaving—“ her steps were fading just as she spoke, halfway through the door— “Aldís will aid you in preparing for later.”

And the door fell closed.

The brunette stepped up with a bright smile not quite yet managing to fully reach her eyes as she moved to collect something she apparently had laid down on the table earlier, without you noticing in your shock regarding the Queen’s unexpected presence. In her hands loads of clothes along with a new coat sitting on top of the heap like the star sitting on a Christmas Tree, immediately catching your attention.

_What_?

———

Tea flooded your system more than it should, all in hopes of the anxiety reducing effects working its miracle; yet it mostly only made you feel like a water tank walking on legs. Thor was leading the way with his red cape billowing behind him, silver and gold glistening even more so from his embellished armor parts making him glow more than ever before. Aldís and Ragnarr walked along beside you, to act as emotional support you assumed, the latter having taken the day off, clothes polished up like everybody else’s with extra hints of silvery webbed thread and meticulously cleaned shoulder plates.

You weren’t sure yet if you were grateful for their presence or not, all the extra attention _did_ make you feel rather queasy, even more so than you already felt.

Even you had been given a new set of clothes purely for attending this ‘event’. Part of the Queen’s gratitude, Aldís had explained, presenting you with a new set of clothes for you to wear.

Made of fabric, smooth and plain, which was easy to move in, cut once more fit to not be too traditional, but still enough to fit right in with a pair of pants and boots to match. Parts of the cloth were vaguely adorned with silver embroidery, enough to catch the eye of people who truly looked, but not enough to draw attention to you.

Yet the one thing exciting you the most, was the coat that came with it. It was sturdier than the rest of the fabric with cuts placed between your arms and body to not restrict your movement too much but still give you your much valued sense of anonymity by allowing you to practically hide in the knee length cloth. Light embroidery resulted in a vague diagonal pattern adorning the coat, giving it a slightly more modern look.

The clothes were a result of everyone’s suggestions, Aldís had informed you as she handed them over to you, and you immediately recognized tiny aspects of it from the friends you had gained over your month long stay.

Basic cloth from the Queen, silver embroidery made by Aldís herself, boots and pants ideas from Ragnarr and Thor, Ragnarr most likely having thought of the times you were out on Asgard adventuring, while Thor tried to make you feel closer to Earth by using what he saw most people wear.

And the coat— _Loki_.

After all the time you had spent with him in the dungeons he must have picked up on how much you valued wearing enough fabric to make you feel invisible, to help you hide, as knowing how easily other people’s emotions and secrets were laid bare to you made you feel naked without.

The steps of the four of you walking through the hallways in silence made your mind wander back to the situation at hand, and in times like these, you tried to force positive thoughts through the flock of negativity roaming your brain like animals set loose, making you feel nauseous beyond belief. After all your experience almost equaled zero, with only one case to date in which it had worked—one case that had been years ago and one you only figured worked because of your incessant questioning of said memory following your desperate attempts of repairing what you had broken.

With shaky hands you held onto the coat covering you, pulling it closer around you as if trying to let it swallow you whole.

Think. _Positive_.

A chapter will end. _Finally_. After all this waiting and hoping for Thor to return with the necessary permission to enter Loki’s cell, you finally get to transfer what didn’t belong to you back to him and call it a day.

Only that this wouldn’t break the connection you and your souls shared, something which was said to persist even after both of your deaths. And what if you simply failed to hand them back? What if something else happened, something equally or _possibly_ , even more terrifying than the knowledge of having failed something which involved more people than simply yourself? What if—

_**[...Little One...]** _

The silent call resonating from within your mind made you break out of your downwards spiraling chain of negative thoughts once more.

_[Loki.]_

_**[Yes.]** _

For a moment you only heard the sound of steps, of shoes against stone and marble, echoing through the hallways and bouncing off the walls in an almost rhythmic pattern. Along with it the sound of a heartbeat, _yours_.

Sounding loud enough for you, still, to quiet everything else in comparison.

_**[Everything will be alright.]** _

You bit your lip, suppressing the urge to fight against his well meaning words with a sword made of your doubts.

_[I hope so.]_

———

Descending the stairs down into the dungeons had never felt that crushing and terrifying before, much like you assumed an actual walk to the gallows would, despite you not even being the prisoner in case. There were people walking before you and people walking behind, a group consisting of the four of you, as well as the Queen with an additional set of two soldiers guarding her steps.

The King, _obviously_ , had no intentions of partaking, whereas the Queen apparently wanted to be emotional support for her son. From what Aldís had told you, it took Thor and the Queen their combined efforts to talk the King into letting them enter the dungeons just this once with what possible arguments you couldn’t even imagine.

As soon as the room opened wide and your eyes grew accustomed to the few flickering bowls of fire in the corners and the ominous yellow glow radiating from the cubicle cells encased in stone, your eyes locked with Loki’s. An immediate pull caused your attention to gravitate towards each other and your only way to respond was with an uneasy smile, dripping with the sadness from the pain of yesterday. Much to your surprise a sad smile of his own graced his features as a silent answer, which only turned more genuinely happy for a split second as his eyes darted to your coat in what might have been silent appreciation.

The time had come and despite all the calming tea as well as the proximity of both of your souls, your heart started skyrocketing again. There were just too many doubts lingering behind and poisoning your mind; all the what’s and what if’s and the questions of whatever will happen after you have succeeded...Will it honestly work to tear the two of you apart after all you now knew of your connection? Of your condition?

The metallic creak and shifting of shackles and restraints called your attention back to reality and you could only watch in dry horror as the guards, who had entered his cell, were starting to roughly chain his arms and legs together, placing a collar around his throat and making it shut with a goosebumps inducing snap, crawling up your back like a shiver up your spine. Ragnarr next to you took in a breath through almost clenched teeth, creating a slight hissing noise and you cast him a glance to see a mixture of anger and terror painting his expression grim and dark.

You were given a nod from the same guards you barely registered, forcing Aldís to give you a gentle push with a quiet wish for the best of luck as you stumbled onwards, starring at the barrier with furrowed brows.

The same barrier you had spent hours upon hours, days upon days sitting in front of, talking through it to the Prince currently standing shackled with his eyes glued on you as you carefully made your way to the opening. Every step made your legs feel more and more heavy as if they were turning to lead and you couldn’t help but ponder the fight or flight instinct creeping into your body opting for flight.

The chains holding Loki were pulled taught, restricting his movements to the bare minimum and you searched his face for emotions but came out empty handed, only finding his attention fixated on you as you hesitantly stepped closer. You wanted to say something, _desperately_ so, but the tension filling the room only grew bigger with every second left in silence, worsened only by the guards lingering presence, everyone’s eyes burning holes into your body.

Your name being called snapped you out of it, and you looked at Loki standing shackled before you with a look of concern and fear contorting your face.

_[I’m afraid.]_

A light smile spread on his lips, an almost sorrowful one.

_**[I know.]** _

The sound of the rattling chains whenever he breathed, whenever the guards shifted in their stance sent your heart beating so much you feared it to leap out of your chest and you only recounted Aldís’ advice from the day before—slowly starting to count in your head and adjusting your breathing until the sounds disturbing you faded to mere background noise.

With a nod to whoever noticed you raised your hands and closed your eyes, carefully, beginning to reach for his head. For but a moment your fingertips graced his skin, making the both of you flinch in agonizing anticipation before your palms gently came to rest on his temples. You found yourself standing close, almost awkwardly so as his breath tickled the top of your head and you, for the first time in weeks, found him to be _real_.

The skin below your hands was his and it was real, he was a person with fears and doubts, with hopes and dreams just as you and you found your hands to subconsciously withdraw from his head.

_**[No.]** _

You opened your eyes, staring right into his green ones as the stared down at you with steadfast resolve. Once again you felt him an image of yourself, saw his pain and fear through the windows of his soul and felt his determination as yours.

With a breath you closed your eyes and let yourself be consumed by his mind.

———

Darkness, everywhere.

Shrouding and clouding every nook and corner of his mind from himself as much as from you and you forced yourself to go deeper, deeper, much deeper into his subconsciousness, felt the memories appear one after the other as more and more of them reached the light; your light. It was almost overwhelming, the flood of images appearing after having torn through the first couple of layers of darkness—which fought whenever you attempted to break through, fought to remain whole and continue hiding whatever he deemed undesirable to be laying underneath.

There was a twinge in the back of it all, tearing at the veil of black on its own accord, almost in rhythm to your own tries.

_[Loki?]_

Just as a silent response the final layer tore open and you found yourself surrounded by his memories, by _him_.

You took your position as an anchor, binding yourself to him as a linkbetween his memories persisting within you and his mind. Pulling at your own being you felt and shifted through your own memories, quickly discerning yours from his and beginning to loosen the threads linking them to you, one after the other.

The deep anguish of not understanding _**who**_ , or even _**what**_ you were, with no one around to guide you out of the dark pit you had fallen into.

You felt the strings twist and snap under your efforts, reattaching themselves to Loki as if they had a conscience of their own; as if they knew who they actually belonged to

Just as you felt the memory cross over, you sensed the other one, manipulated one get pushed out, overwritten. It played out like a video running on TV. A man, the _King_ screaming at you, calling you a worthless creature as you laid broken and crumbled, yet filled with rage beyond belief on the cold tile floor.

_“You were never truly my son and never will be. You are no part of this family.”_

The words stung you as you heard them; a bee’s stinger left behind to quietly poison you while you scrambled to free yourself from its influence. Almost with an audible click you knew the process was done and moved onto the next.

A broken bridge in the darkness, a loose grip on a your father’s weapon being held by your brother in a desperate attempt to save you. The desire to eradicate a species to prove your worth, to prove your difference and distance yourself from the likes of them. The knowledge that your father—he, who you had tried to prove yourself to—was disappointed in your doings, your best attempts.

And the feeling of letting go and falling into a void, letting go of what you believed to not be a part of, letting it behind as you knew you could never be loved by them.

_“No.”_

You would have never thought that such a simple word could hold that much of a meaning.

The other one, the fake memory pushed itself into your vision just like the last one had, and you braced yourself for the impact.

Hopes for a better future crushed by your brother, the perfect son. Desperate pleas to him as he stood before you, almost threateningly so, looking you into the eyes as if you were the enemy. And you couldn’t deny yourself knowing that you were.

Your pleas, answered with mere dismissal.

And a push down into the abyss.

There was fear, so much terror and fear before it all turned to anger, to blank, white rage.

It was just like Loki had said.

With all strings reattached and even the memory of him seeing you take his memories all the way back on Stark’s Tower back where it belonged, you couldn’t help but hesitate. Your energy had already drained significantly and the pure thought of even remotely going through the agony of _that_ memory again froze you on spot.

Yet you knew this was no time to back down, and so, with much more strength than you had hoped, you conjured the memory again, beginning to tear the strings binding it to you.

Feeling the sensations for another time you couldn’t help but be even more aware of everything as it happened; the uncomfortably warm breath mixed with a laugh of the creature cowering behind you, the dust and dirt swirling around and further clogging your nose, throat and eyes, and even the way your forehead created a dent to momentarily accept the gem’s physical form as it was pressed into your skin and skull. The agony of the fire, the flames scorching your skin and the terror seeing the titan stand before you.

The feeling of being unmade.

Only this time it lasted much longer and it drained more and more of your strength and made it harder and harder for you to hold onto Loki’s mind as you felt your formless being flicker and falter in the agony of the excruciating experience, felt yourself almost get pushed out of his mind as you let out a cry to fight and stay.

Sensations of your physical body were mixed together with your formless one residing in Loki’s mind and you could vaguely feel your hands beginning to shake along with your legs, the pain growing to be more than you could ever hope to bear—as if what you had experienced before hadn’t even been the full memory; cut off due to a self defense mechanism of your body to protect you from the entire incident.

After all, hadn’t Thor said that their physique makes them more resilient..?

Out of nowhere you felt hands clasp your wrists, firmly but gently, holding them in place as if trying to steady you.

Something resounded within the both of you, bits and pieces coming through the pain and making you believe it to be your name. It sounded like a scream, a wail, contorted with so much agony you completely forgot what you were currently trying to do.

_[Loki?]_

There was no reply but suppressed screams and you could, in a way, feel his affirmative nod as if you yourself had moved your head.

_[I—I can’t to this—]_

_**[—I know.]** _

With these words floating over, you could vaguely feel the pain grow numb, numb enough to feel like a mere cramp twisting your body which you definitely preferred over the feeling of getting eradicated while being fully conscious. A sensation overcame you as if the agony was being drained out of you, redirected to somewhere away from you as your mind started to clear from the remedy of torture lingering to cloud your thoughts.

_[Loki...?]_

There was no answer.

With the desperate, agonizing screams filling the background until it appeared as nothing but static, the last string holding the memory to you snapped and reattached it to his mind.

You barely managed to note the lack of a substitute memory, before you felt the grip—his grip on your wrists—slip, and you got thrown out of his mind to try and gain your orientation back in a world in which everything was too bright and too loud, in which you couldn’t help but fail to completely discern reality from memory as you tried to not fall to the floor under the sensations of both flooding you like water.

In but a second a body collided with yours and you instinctively clung onto it, using all your weight to keep who you know realized to be Prince Loki from falling. Your mind was still hazy, your breath hot and ragged as you vaguely felt a tear slide down your cheek, and your eyes searched for his in a desperate motion only to find them closed.

With a trembling hand you reached for his face, just as the two guards yanked him away from you by the chains in a swift movement, restraints rattling as loud as gunshots to your overtly sensitive ears. You took a step forward, rage expressed through your clenched jaw and fists, before the floor got pulled away from under your feet and your world turned black.

———

You awoke with only one realization in mind.

The feeling of fire and flames always having resided within the back of your mind for the past months was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was difficult to write for some reason..? Hope you like it either way!
> 
> Also, since a ‘chapter’ has almost come to a close, just wanna inform you guys that this might go into a completely different direction now?  
> (Okay not that much,) It’s just, I really like Guardians of the Galaxy? And I have some ideas that still need some more thought, but???
> 
> Also, I’m feeling much better already!  
> Stay healthy y’all!! ;)


	20. In the Process of Preparing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How can you say goodbye to an unconscious Prince out of your reach..?

Thor knew exactly how you felt—for there was probably no one better suited to do so than him. Having been forced to break off contact with his beloved Midgardian girlfriend Jane Foster due to him fearing to drag her into danger with him, as well as grieving and mourning the loss of his brother as he had been declared dead, he knew the pain of losing someone dear to them more than he would ever let on. After all he had to continue playing a role; the strong, perfect future King, current Crown Prince being prepared for a future he had never wanted and never will, being forced to neglect whatever could potentially disturb his prospective reign merely to please his father and reassure him of the certainties which lie beyond anyone’s responsibility.

He shifted his gaze to Aldís and Ragnarr, determination radiating off of his being as he delved into creating a plan to help in easing the process of what was about to happen, as he knew he couldn’t disobey such direct orders by the King, the All-Father himself. He couldn’t fight his decision to send you back to Midgard to rid of you, unable to see the value you had brought with you in bringing the Prince, in bringing Loki slowly but surely back to his senses, back to being the very Prince he was meant to be.

If the last thing Thor could do was to help you in saying your Goodbyes’, than this was exactly what he would do, after all you had done for them.

——————

The feeling of fire and flames always having resided within the back of your mind for the past months was gone.

Just like that.

Upon sitting up and stretching your limbs you found them to be much lighter than you remembered, as if there had been heavy weights clasped to your body keeping you down and restricting your mobility, the feeling of freedom you had always valued. You couldn’t help the desperate smile brightening your face as you felt as if you could possibly fly—not as if you couldn’t, _possibly_ , do so—heart light as a feather while your mind felt oddly calm and at peace.

And all of that merely because the memories were gone; what stayed behind a mere remnant of knowledge that something terrible must have happened and the vague remedy of Loki being tortured by a purple titan named Thanos while being in agony beyond belief.

Memories which Loki now held.

That realization pulled you right back down from your high in an instant, heavy breath easing out of your mouth as you struggled to call for him within your mind, over and over and over without receiving any kind of response. Your hands clutched the sides of whatever you were resting on in a hurry, attempting to get down to see for yourself how he was doing, how he was coping with the agony you had burdened him with.

Your name being called made you halt in your movements.

“Loki?”

The blonde hair invading your vision forced you to involuntarily slouch your shoulders.

“Thor,” you tried again, almost sure your accidental disappointment was clearly painting your face—at least judging by the face he pulled himself, looking as if it had been raining for weeks on end while he had planned to bathe in the sunlight,

“I need to know what happened to Loki, I—“

He gently pushed you back down to rest on the bed, and for the first time since waking you noticed the familiar surroundings of the Healing Room, the familiar feeling of the blanket covering your body and the stiff cot digging in your back. In response to the sudden realization your eyes widened significantly, breath halting in your lungs.

“Before I begin to explain,” Thor spoke, carefully withdrawing his hands from atop your shoulders, “Please calm down. You are safe here, and everything is alright.”

You tried to believe him and tried to follow his plea, yet your mind couldn’t manage to stray from the imprisoned Prince; how pained he had sounded as he received his memories, the weight of his body as he fell limp against your chest, eyes closed in exhaustion. The lump in your throat grew heavier with dread and you forced yourself to remember Aldís’ advice and count as you breathed in and out, in and out until you felt your heartbeat return to a steadier pace, which might have taken long enough for Thor to carefully place his hand on your shoulder again, trying to calm you.

“Okay,” you wheezed out, ready to hear his explanation, hands clutching the blanket in anticipation.

Thor began by informing you that you had been unconscious once more, even if merely for a day. They had carried you up to the Healing Room to tend to your body, once more noticing that the problem lied within your mind and therefore forced them to wait until you finished your recovery by yourself.

“But _Loki_ ,” you interrupted—an action which might have possibly been some sort of treason to anyone but Thor— “You don’t know what he went through, I know it because I felt it myself. I _need_ to see him!”

Silence was your only answer, as well as Thor’s expression; his lips, tightly pressed into a thin line.

“Wait,” you spoke, fear consuming you like darkness would the light, like fire does the ice as it pierced your heart with uncertainty, “What’s wrong? Whathappened to him?”

Your face and voice must have been a painful giveaway to the terror you felt, eyebrows drawing together forcing a frown of his own on the Crown Prince’s forehead.

And with that he continued, voice heavy with pain as much as your own as he explained how you had wound up in the healing chambers in the first place. How Loki had fainted first, shortly before you did, Thor having barely managed to get into the cell in the nick of time to catch your limp body, having clearly seen the signs of distress early on and rushing to help. He explained how the two of you had started screaming in unison and your heart couldn’t help but ache, as you felt how deeply both of your agony was affecting him, how much he was hurt hearing his own brother and his friend scream out of pain and anguish for memories he held no knowledge of.

“He has not awoken yet,” he continued, hands heavily sitting on his lap, folded but restless, “Aldís and Eir are currently down with him in the dungeons to see to his condition.”

Seeing your incredulous expression he added on,

“Our father would not allow for him to be tended to outside of his cell, which is why we had to provide slight changes in order to help him despite those restrictions.”

Even though the exhaustion was already drawing clear lines of distress onto your features, the bad news didn’t stop.

“Following your recovery, the King has ordered me to escort you to Midgard tomorrow at noon.”

There was not a part of Thor’s face untouched by his sorrow—he clearly was against his father’s orders, yet couldn’t find it in him to go against his words. It’s not like you couldn’t understand that, having seen and heard enough from the man to wish to never actually lay your eyes upon him. Yet no knowledge of the world could help you in coping with the dread that immediately started blossoming in your stomach; a rose, thorns sharp and deadly as your face paled with every jab.

So there was no goodbye? Considering he was unconscious and couldn’t even communicate with you through your connection, considering it wouldn’t even matter if you went down to see him to at least gift words to your goodbyes, whether he could hear them or not? For he had most likely withdrawn to the far crevices and corners of his tortured mind, to tend to the wounds which had been created?

Thinking back to your arrival on Asgard, everything clicked audibly into place in your head, like a children’s toy for learning shapes; at least as loud, if not with the same feeling of _I should have noticed earlier_.

All the times you had felt immense agony, times in which you had fainted or were close to it...It was your mind trying to understand, cope with and digest the memories which had forced themselves into you, trying to come to terms with what apparently had happened to your body and process the pain that your head wanted to convince the rest of you it went through, despite it being false. All these times were a mere reaction to the images and noises and sounds soaring through your brain, trying to find their rightful place inside, despite there not being any.

And now Loki was going through the same process which had taken you two whole week to survive, only that it had actually happened to him and therefore brought a lot more traumatic revelation with it than it had to you; backstories you couldn’t hope nor wish to connect to what had happened in the first place, things that led to it and things that resulted from it all of a sudden making sense to his traumatized and confused mind.

And you didn’t know how to help him.

“Come now,” Thor spoke again, giving your shoulder a gentle pat as he saw the pain shine in your eyes as clearly as you saw it in his, “Rest for now. I will call upon Aldís and return around late evening.”

You couldn’t help but notice a light twinkle in his eyes, appearing almost mischievous despite the saddened expression shining through from below, before he turned around and left through the door, forcing you to wait for someone to enter. The dread within you refused to settle, only rising in intensity as you felt the time run like sand through your fingers, as your heart run rampage against your chest, every beat sending another bolt of panic surging through you like lightening as your anxiety grew exponentially.

And all the while, orange light shone dangerously through the windows to your left, colors already mixing dangerously with red and purple hues and bathing the room in nearing darkness, safe for the few bowls of fires in the corners.

———

A knock on the door anchored you back down to reality, Aldís taking the empty cup of tea from you and placing it on a table to the side, while your eyes followed the opening door, followed Thor and Ragnarr as they stepped into the room, the latter carefully closing the door behind them. All of their collective and sort of _knowing_ smiles only helped in confusing you as your eyes hushed from one person to the next, questions upon questions forming in your mind as you pushed the urge to read their thoughts away like a flame being put out with a wisp of air.

A last walk on Asgard, Ragnarr had said, the four of you leaving to enable you to see the wonders of a plate-like planet floating across space for what appeared to be the very last time. You savored the sensation of the light breeze rushing past and swirling to pick up a couple of leaves from the ground, savored the feeling of unfamiliar and undeniably pretty petals of strange flowers against your fingers as you brushed them in passing, savored the way the light shown softly above your heads, the last remnants of the sun leaving pink, purple to dark blue hues in its wake, stars glistening in the nearing night sky as prominent as never before.

You settled for the royal gardens upon Thor’s lead, admiring how everything was meticulously trimmed, how gold seemed to adorn every little speck of the many pots and walls and boxes surrounding and containing a multitude of flowers scientists on Earth would _kill_ for. Strong, sweet scent being carried through the air by few, while others glowed brightly in the darkness like little lamps, all by their own.

Yet despite all the external distractions, your mind never strayed from the one person occupying it the most, the one person whose well being was nothing short of questionable, who didn’t answer no matter how much you called. And your friends knew; it was something you couldn’t hide, and didn’t even attempt to.

After an initial reaction of shock as you startled in your step upon seeing the Queen striding alone from within the castle to rest on a bench beside your group of four, Ragnarr had eagerly begun to fill the resulting awkward silence with another multitude of his stories. The tension lifted soon, and you found yourself laughing along with his jokes and retellings of events that had occurred to him, relaxing in the presence of your friends.

“It is time,” spoke the Queen from her seat on the bench after all light had fled the sky, gold around her shining like the sun as it was illuminated by the luminescent flowers as much as her hair did, which appeared like pure strands of gold. She cast a sweet smile to all present and you were once more completely caught up in the grace she radiated, as if a natural talent.

Your confusion was short lived as everyone gathered stood, and you felt yourself merely, utterly and completely trusting your friends as you stood up as well.

“It is time,” Thor picked up where his mother had begun, casting you the same smile with the slightly mischievous glint from earlier, “To help you in entering my brother’s cell.”

———

To say you had been caught off guard would have been not nearly enough to describe the surprise you had felt, which had too many aspects from different emotions to be but put into one box to be classified. In it lingered hints of mischief yourself, at going against the King’s orders, happiness regarding your friend’s attempt to help you in parting, but with it, also, the fear. Fear for many things, for them to be caught and suffering the repercussions and fear for Loki’s condition.

After all there was still no sign of him in your mind as you wandered along the darkened corridors, following behind Thor who led the way to the dungeons below. Getting past the guards was no problem for him, being the Crown Prince, and you tagged behind through the dimly lit staircase spiraling down to the one place you had arguably spent the most time during your stay on Asgard. Perhaps second only to the Healing Room.

The almost childish mirth you had felt upon Thor’s enthusiasm diminished almost completely once you entered the familiar, wide room, eyes immediately darting to the Prince’s cell as you strode closer to the barrier.

There he was, placed upon his bed in the corner not very unlike Snow White in her coffin made of glass; hair just as black as coal, spread around his head like some sort of halo, skin just as pale, just as white as snow and position just as serene. Despite being unresponsive, he held an unrivaled air of elegance and confidence upright, of grace and royalty.

In the corner of your eyes you caught Thor working on the code to open the barrier separating you from Loki, as one of the few who were even in possession of the key to unlock the cage resting before him. Luckily Ragnarr knew the guard’s schedule like the back of his hand, knowing exactly when who and where was to guard, and therefore picking the exact right time where the least interested people were present, barely casting a glance from the far corner of the room as they probably couldn’t even see enough to know what was happening.

The slight whisper-yell of your name made you look up from the sleeping Prince, eyes falling on Thor as he motioned you over with a nod of his head, a silent question.

_Were you ready?_

Actually, you weren’t sure. _Were_ you?

Nonetheless your body acted before your mind could stop it, presenting him with a firm nod. Even your legs acted on their own as they brought you through the opened barrier and slowly closer towards the Prince.

“I am going to wait around the corner,” Thor spoke in a hushed whisper, barely loud enough for you to hear, “Should anything happen, please do not feel afraid to call for me.”

After you gave an affirmative nod, you saw him turn around to do as he said, your attention immediately snapping back to Loki once he was out of sight. His breaths were shallow but prominent, as he appeared to merely be sleeping, calmly, peacefully. A definite contrast to what must have been plaguing him on the inside, thoughts and memories, fears and doubts replaying over and over and forcing him to lock himself away in an attempt to cope with what he had seen. _Probably_.

Once your feet had stepped close enough, you crouched down next to him, biting your lip in anticipation before you gently reached for his head. Air almost seemed to fail you as you feared what you would see once you entered his mind, as you feared his possible reaction, his possible rejection, his possible anger directed at you for intruding on him while you couldn’t ask for permission, which he might have denied.

Yet you forced your lungs to work as you took in a shuddering breath, feeling an inward pull towards his mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just ignore me and my messed up wrist that hurts when I type—Because I won’t let this stop me from updating (Even though I literally wrote this yesterday until 7 in the morning, sleep schedule? What’s that?).
> 
> Hope the pain will leave soon!
> 
> And see? Two chapters!  
> (But it’s 6 am and I didn’t sleep so I guess this is the price I have to pay—yet since I’m currently home I guess that’s okay)


	21. The Dread of Departure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For departure is never an easy task.

Darkness. As usual.

And he was sitting in the middle of it all, back turned to you. Feeling your conscience shift into a form, into yourself you proceeded with caution, afraid to disturb him. The silence around you was almost so loud it was deafening, feeling like pins and needles to you as nervousness surged like fire through your veins.

You wanted to feel happy at seeing him at all, yet found yourself unable to as he appeared unresponsive to your nearing presence. Only as your name rang through the void, echoing off of nothingness did you allow a little smile to grace your face, steps getting wider as you soon found yourself standing right in front of him.

Seated and crumpled on the ground.

There was no such serenity in his conscience from the one his body carried outside of his mind, none at all. he appeared weary, tired. Positively disturbed to a point where his stare was merely blank and grey, lifeless as it went right through you.

“Loki,” you mumbled, concern heavily lining your voice as you sat down in front of him. As he made no move to show that he had heard you, you felt yourself growing more frantic with each second that ticked by.

“Loki, _hey_ ,” you repeated his name in an attempt to rouse him from his trance, hand gently reaching out to rest upon his arm and flinching yourself as he didn’t move even a bit, didn’t even fight against you touching him. Didn’t even move away himself as his stare held the same lack of life as it did before.

“I-“ you began, gently moving your hand up and down his arm as if attempting to warm him, a desperate gesture to pull him back to reality, “Hey, Loki, _look_.”

Your other hand decided to hold onto his shoulder, giving him a firm yet careful shake, eyes darting around to wait for a reaction, anything. Anything to show you that he was still _there_.

“It’s _me_ ,” you added, giving a sorrowful smile, “I’m here, it’s okay.”

His mouth opened ever so slightly, closed a couple of times, as if struggling to form his thoughts into a functioning sentence.

“Everything had been a lie,” he spoke at last, voice carrying barely any hint of emotion whatsoever and you had to strain to read into it as much as you could, finding traces of grief, anger and hopelessness hidden behind layers upon layers of indifference. Forced indifference, you couldn’t help but realize, understanding why his subconsciousness was but a black, empty void.

He was experiencing too many different things, emotions and thoughts to even try and understand them, instead shoving them away, bottling them up instead of thoroughly dealing with them.

You couldn’t blame him. You had no idea where to start either.

In a subconscious movement you gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze, other hand still moving along his arm as if having forgotten that you were even doing it, drawing little patterns along his arm as if to distract the both of you from the current situation. Honestly, you hadn’t even expected him to allow you to touch him at all, having waited to be pushed away immediately. His lack of any kind of reaction was terrific to say the least.

There was more resting right atop his tongue, waiting to be let out into the world, yet he couldn’t bring himself to. You felt his insecurities, his hesitation running circles around him as clear as day.

“I can help you with that,” you said, almost whispered to him, “If you let me.”

Upon detecting the slightest hint of a nod you closed your eyes, started concentrating on the many words tumbling in knots around him.

You sensed _panic_ , hopeless panic paired with morbid acceptance. As if believing that whatever happened to him was deserved; something you blatantly refused to agree with.

You sensed _sadness_ , grief rather, almost so palpable you believed to be capable of touching it, already feeling it starting to entangle itself with your own mind before abruptly detaching yourself from it as it became to overwhelming to bear.

You sensed _fury_ , mostly in regards to the situation, for it turning out the way it did. There was _hatred_ in there too, almost purely directed at himself, and you started to tremble realizing that his hatred for Thanos was no more than a tiny speck in comparison, your own hatred for the purple titan burning stronger than you could have ever imagined for hated to burn.

But what you sensed the most, above everything, was _guilt_.

Guilt for everything he had ever done. From every tiny little occasion, to huge, truly terrific ones, whether he had actually consciously committed them or not. From the one time he had hid a snake in his brother’s boots when they had been but children, to the moment he had lost control in a fit of rage, screaming at his father in anguish and hurt, blaming himself and himself only for the King’s resulting coma.

 _ **Odin-Sleep**_ , something, _someone_ replied.

Even all the way up to his attack on New York, something akin to terror secretly dripping from him as he pondered how he could have ever committed to such an act without his full consciousness, almost terrified by his actions.

“ _Not your actions,_ ” you whispered, trying to sound as calm as possible.

All his thoughts entangled into one, as if to answer your claim.

“ _ **I should have been able to stop it.**_ ”

“ _No,_ ” you hastily replied, “ _You were manipulated, you were corrupted by that mad titan. You couldn’t have done anything._ ”

“ _ **I should have tried harder,**_ ” came the reply.

You snapped back out of his direct thoughts, back to where he appeared to be sitting in the middle of a void, a black hole threatening to engulf every positive thought he may have ever had. With something akin to a light scowl you stared down at him, intensifying the glare for good measure.

“ _Listen_ ,” you started, “All this guilt will get you nowhere. Your mother and brother love you, they understand that this wasn’t your fault, that someone else was behind all of that.”

Your hands now both dug into his shoulders, intending to reach him, to ground him enough to enable him to fight back the enormous flood of doubts drowning him.

“They _love_ you and would never accept you beating yourself up about it.”

His stare was still too empty for your liking and you bit your lip, swallowing the lump in your throat as you tried to catch his gaze nonetheless.

“Didn’t I always tell you the truth?”

With these words laid out before you, paired with the slightest hint of recognition in his eyes, you decided to try something new. Collecting your strength with closed eyes you decided to simply show him what you felt. it was a rather intimate process, you mused, yet you knew it was exactly what he needed. Sincerity. Trust.

Concentration drenched your entire being as light started to seep into the darkness surrounding you, coming straight from your very own mind.

Being able to manipulate minds certainly had its perks—weaving around in other people’s minds while being completely in control of yourself, watching and discovering everything the other person might not want the world to know.

Their deepest desires, their fears, their hopes and dreams.

All the while your mind remained completely closed off, only for you to know about. All the time you were merely an intruder, holding the key to the other person right in your hands, while they were unable to do the slightest thing to stop you from entering.

This time it would be different.

And so you willingly opened yourself up, making yourself just as vulnerable as he had been to you all this time, feeling everything you were float out of you for him to be seen, and he perked up as memories came to the both of you. You watched as he observed, felt everything you had felt, saw everything you had seen, heard everything you had heard.

You still watched how he interacted with it, how his eyes grew softer, his mouth quirked up into a small but sincere smile while you felt him relish in your emotions, in what you were.

It was no wonder, really.

His mind was a dark place, pitch black and more akin to a void than a place supposedly filled with memories and thoughts and emotions, as he seemingly tried to conceal everything within him by hiding it in impenetrable darkness, darkness only you and your abilities could manage to see through.

Your mind was quite the contrary; bathed in bright light, memories effortlessly floating around you without giving it much second thought. Sure, as everyone else you had things you weren’t necessarily proud of, as well as memories that were rather left undisturbed. But it was your place.

It was _you_.

And for a moment, his mind brightened alongside yours.

After you had retreated back into yourself, his eyes seemed to have lightened up, from half dead back to appearing _alive_ as they darted around, taking in everything surrounding you both, before his attention fell on you with the tiniest hint of a smile. It was obvious to you how he still appeared to be struggling with words, struggling with everything that he now knew and everything that had happened. It was terrifyingly obvious that he needed time to digest it all, and you couldn’t help the feeling of grief shining through as you understood that you wouldn’t be there to witness it all, to help him through it.

“What brings you to my subconsciousness?” he asked, trying a mixture of lightheartedness and genuine confusion with a grin still etched on his face, but your apparently rather serious and saddened expression must have sobered him up in an instant, you watching his smile turn to a frown.

“...Did you not tell me that you need physical contact to interact with me like this?”

You gave a nod, hands having eased away from his shoulders long ago to rest back in your lap, to give him the freedom you believed he needed.

“It’s an exception,” you started, not quite knowing how to put what happened into words and deciding to rather cut to the chase, “Thor helped to sneak me into your cell so I could say goodbye. I have to leave Asgard tomorrow.”

Loki’s eyes seemed to widen at first, fondness shining through at the thought of his brother having defied his father’s clear instructions to keep him secluded, yet it soon turned to almost horrified realization before he settled with something that seemed like defeat and acceptance to your observant soul.

After having visited him all this time, you could not imagine how it would be for him to go back to solitude, for you didn’t believe you could uphold even just your mental connection over such a distance—it having barely worked enough to reach the room you had rested in during your stay.

“Might as well use the remaining time to chat?” you offered with a sheepish grin, not completely managing to mask the dread shining clearly through your consciousness and getting lost in your fear of what might happen of the connection once it widened to a chasm between the two of you, entire worlds keeping your two connected souls apart.

“If you don’t mind?”

“I do not,” he gave a short reply, though his mind, same as yours, betrayed the combination of sorrow and happiness he didn’t manage to conceal. The only thing to ease your worries was how his eyes had lost its grey and shone with new life once more.

———

There was a tiny ripple surging through the both of you feeling much akin to a droplet of rain hitting the surface of water—a clear sign that your strength was draining fast—barely having properly caught yourself after you had given his memories back to him a day ago. You had not managed to talk much, the dread of having to leave so suddenly, hanging like chains attached to your body and dragging your spirits down to unbelievable depths. That Odin had wanted you gone the moment you arrived was clear, crystal clear.

Even just convincing him to help his own son, the _Prince_ had resulted in Thor having to leave to attend to some favor in return. And now that it was done you had no more excuses to manage and stay, for you doubted the King would mind even the slightest bit whether the two of you were now connected or not.

“I believe this is our farewell then,” he said after you had quieted, fallen deeply into thought at the unfairness of it all. He apparently felt your hold on his mind weaken as much as you did, his hands laid in his lap restless as he picked on his left one for apparent distraction.

“Yes,” you replied, head dropping to look down in the face of this bittersweet departure. There were so many things left you had wanted to say, so many things you had still wanted to find out. And while you dearly missed your family, you couldn’t bear to leave so abruptly, leave everything behind which had grown to you over the course of time.

“...Thank you,” he spoke suddenly, surprising the both of you judging by the tiny shift of his posture once the words left his lips, the way his mouth opened and closed in thoughts for a couple of times, “For everything you have done.”

There was a moment of silence in which you processed everything. Not just the words, but the unmistaken sincerity behind it, the undeniable depth behind just two spoken words; for it all was clear for you to see all around him, appreciation so palpable he couldn’t deny it even if he tried. Not that thismethod would have ever worked on you either way.

You could only give a sweet smile as a reply, words failing you over and over in your head in your search for a fitting way to respond. There was nothing even close that you could think of, to express the way you felt. But as you noticed his expression brightening ever so slightly you realized that he must have still been able to see the equal amounts of appreciation floating around you for him to pick up as well.

“Goodbye Loki,” you spoke, distress deeply entangled within every syllable, “I hope to see you again.”

“I am certain we will,” he replied, giving an almost weary, yet somewhat mischievous smile back, and it took you a moment to realize the implication of your connected souls—of you being bound together even after death had come to claim you, “Farewell.”

Barely having had the time to hear your name roll from his lips as an extended gratitude, the world began to crumble around you, darkness blurring to shift back to the inside of his cell as you left him in his lingering unconsciousness to heal from the mental wounds that he had been unfairly gifted with.

———

The times for farewell were never easy—no one ever liked thinking about how _much_ so, until they were caught in a situation were there was no other choice.

Surrounded by Aldís, Ragnarr and Thor, people you had come to know over the past few months and had long since started to regard as friends, you were saying your goodbyes. Your normal clothes almost felt odd against your skin after such a long time of wearing nothing but Asgardian fabric. The only physical reminder of Asgard was the coat left from the outfit created by your friends’ suggestions, which Aldís had fondly draped around your shoulders before ushering you outside to meet up with the rest.

“This might not look _that_ much out of place on Midgard,” she had said, ensuring you they would keep the rest in case you might somehow find your way back while she fumbled with it to straighten the fabric, your eyes following the embroidered pattern making it look slightly modern and earthly despite its origins. While appearing feeble you decided to cling to her optimism, to the hope it provided you with.

Ragnarr stepped up to give you an affectionate hug with a force you could have never dreamed of replicating, brown, messy hair tickling your skin before you gave it a quick pat. Even Aldís, who you had noticed to be slightly aversed to the idea of affectionate contact, had pulled you into a hug by her own decision, sadness glistening in all of their eyes as they took a hesitant step back for Thor to escort you home.

With the Bifrost not yet being fully functional, Thor had been momentarily entrusted with the Tesseract to send you off back to Earth. Standing outside of the royal palace, close to the rainbow bridge glowing in the bright sunlight pestering you from above, you watched your friends with squinted eyes.

You missed them already, heart aching and pounding painfully behind your ribcage, and you’d love to swear that you would visit them soon—a promise you could never make, a promise everyone knew you couldn’t give.

With unshed tears glistening in your eyes you began to wave, all the while offering a forced smile; a facade that almost broke as you thought about the Prince still lying unconscious in his cell underground.

For a fact, to distract yourself from your pained thoughts you didn’t stop waving until Thor put his arm around your back, securing you against powers you might—but also might not—have been able to withstand alone, didn’t even stop until a blue, familiar light engulfed the both of you and you found yourself back on a familiar street, surrounded by familiar sights and familiar noises. You gave another saddened goodbye to the blonde who returned it with a sorrowful glance as he pulled you into a brotherly hug, gentle but tight, as if a silent promise. There was no need for you to see the forced smile gracing his face, no need to watch his eyes contort with pain at being unable to stop the sudden departure ripping you from the new situation you had found yourself in. No need to see him to feel the clear distress seeping out of him, as clearly as it always did.

“Thank you,” he said with his lips curled upwards more sincerely as he let go, giving you a last pat on the back, “For helping my brother.”

You could only give a gentle nod before he disappeared in a mist of mysterious blue.

Before you realized you were back in New York.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I managed to get the changes all done, woo!
> 
> Still didn’t want to keep these two chapters apart though, I would have felt too bad!
> 
> So, back to Midgard now, is it?
> 
> From now on it’s getting wild (by that I mean my draft is going to be pretty useless!), so let’s wing it together!


	22. Earth, Sweet Earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Back on Earth and already encountering old acquaintances.

The flashes of light momentarily blinded you as you began to properly orient yourself back on a planet you hadn’t been on for months. You should have known it would be happening, really. You should have. Masses of people were surrounding you in an enormous crowd, tons of smartphones and similar devices where pointed at you in anticipation, lights shining from most of them while only a flash radiated from others.

Really, it was early morning judging by how the sun shone high and bright above you, who needed _flash_ in such a situation?

Deciding to ignore the crowd of curious passersby around you in what appeared to be a vague mixture of nervousness and annoyance, you began to move along, trying to get out of their way as you spared them no further glance in hoping to get them off of your trail. Luckily it worked; most of them were apparently too shocked to react with your sudden departure while others simply continued to work with their phones—no doubt to upload the videos and pictures they had just taken somewhere, possibly to _Youtube_.

Being an Internet sensation might not have sounded inherently bad, but being an internet sensation because you were apparently brought to Earth by what people knew to be a _god_ might lead to an abundance of heavy interrogations by all sort of organizations, and you could only remember the last one you had with a shudder traveling up your spine.

That was right. _Fury_.

He most likely was still displeased by the way you had left, and with you back in his vicinity the fear you had pushed to the far corners of your mind stealthily managed to creep up on you as your picked up your speed in the midst of trying to blend in with the crowd. You felt some of their stares linger on you as you pushed past, involuntarily making yourself smaller to be less conspicuous in your need to hide, all the while tumbling around a couple of construction workers tending to repair the damage from a few months prior.

Even just few months appeared to have you numbed slightly to the use of technology, to smartphones and all the similar stuff people apparently couldn’t live without and decided to shove inconsiderately into poor, disinterested people’s faces; much like the man stumbling next to you on your left, who had watched you so intently while walking with his phone out he could barely react in time to avoid running against a street pole.

Yet as you had finally walked off all the people around you, having moved into the stream as if a fish following along the swarm in a river while pulling the coat tighter around you with an additional pang in your heart, you realized that you didn’t exactly know where to go.

It had, after all, been a while since you had last been on this planet. Your friend must have left long since, taking your belongings back to your family and you just now began to understand, that you had no phone, no money, no _anything_ to even try to reach out to anyone you knew. In a different country nonetheless.

Casting a glance over your shoulder to note a woman staring intently at the phone in her hand—catching the familiar glance of a map appearing on the screen—you gave a defeated sigh.

You missed technology. You _really_ did.

But what you missed even more was your family. Now that you were back on Earth, familiarity in it all coming back to you in a rush, you could only clutch your heart at the thought of facing them after all this time. They had feared you dead after all, and now you were suddenly returning without knowing how to explain anything of whathad happened, all the while trying to _not_ mention your abilities, lest you would be declared insane and shoved off into the next asylum. All the pain and uncertainties were barely enough to drown out the feeling of yearning deep within you, of your soul screaming for what was missing to make it whole and desperately trying to pull you somewhere you knew you couldn’t return to.

That thought had to wait until later though.

For now it might have been the most intelligent idea to pick up where you had left—not Stark Tower or that weird organization thing, mind you—but the hotel you had stayed at with your friend. Maybe your things weren’t gone yet or you could use the owner’s phone to contact your family or something. It might be best to not draw any more attention to you than you already had—thanks for the heads up, Thor.

Though maybe you should have thought about reminding him that you were _not_ actually living in New York.

Entering an alley you could have _sworn_ was a shortcut based on what you had seen on the earlier woman’s map, you couldn’t help the grimace and slight rise of panic as you felt yourself walking into a dead end. Perhaps you had been mistaken and the shortcut was another street further to the left, after all New York wasn’t exactly quiet and empty, enabling you to freely, calmly and properly access your situation to figure out what to do. And it certainly didn’t help that you could _still_ feel being watched—you had hoped to have completely shaken off anyone after sneaking on and about for an entirety of thirty minutes, but apparently that had not been the case. With all the newest revelations as well as the feeling of a weird sort of homesickness trying to draw you to your family, while at the same time trying to pull you to the stars and beyond, you couldn’t help the fire rising within you urging you to act rash and instinctive. Your gut trying to coax you into screaming at whoever might be following you to tell them that this is considered stalking and most definitely against the law.

Yet the thought fell short when you fell an abrupt contact with your neck; sizzling sensation crawling like ants under your skin leaving unpleasant tingles in its wake as you felt yourself sink to your knees.

Just _what_ exactly had you gotten yourself into?

———

You awoke, hands immediately trashing against whatever you found was binding your wrists together behind your back and to what you realized was a chair. After all this time of being unconscious you were really having enough of it, your body being unsure whether to react with panic or rather fury to your sudden predicament. Trying to calm yourself proved almost futile as you felt the white light shining above you still blinding your eyes, white walls only aiding the effect of it and you couldn’t help the glower you threw at the most likely one sided mirror facing you on the wall.

 _Calm_ , you chided, you needed to stay _calm_.

That thought was immediately squashed under your feet as the door to your left opened with a click, heavy boots sounding against the clear white floor as a man shuffled over to where you sat, pulling the seat opposite from you away from the table to sit down. YouTube was really starting to get on your nerves too, especially now that you knew a certain organization seemed to love spending their time on it.

Sitting in front of you was Fury, what irony.

His mouth was obviously moving to speak but you cut in first, feeling way too exhausted by the latest constant turn of events and terribly numbed by all that you had felt to even understand the possible danger you could have found yourself in.

“Why did you bring me here?”

You weren’t sure whether to add in malice or not, and accidentally ended up with it either way. At the moment you weren’t quite sure of many things, head spinning as you fought to keep from trying to break out of the restraints. Merely a week ago you had definitely been terrified by the prospect of ever meeting the man again—yet this feeling had vastly subsided.

After all he was only human. And apparently there were much larger threats looming right above your heads hanging down on your neck, like a guillotine above a criminal, judging by the fact that some of them could apparently travel through powerful artifacts to where you were seated in the blink of an eye.

“I believe I do not need to reintroduce myself then,” he spoke, perfectly unbothered by your accidental hostility as his hands intertwined on the silvery table, “I have brought you here to find out more about whether we can see you as a possible ally.”

You couldn’t help yourself. You couldn’t help the snort that tore through your nose as you gave him an incredulous glare through squinted eyes. So he wanted an _interrogation_ again?

“And that’s why you knocked me unconscious and tied me to a chair? You couldn’t just _ask_?”

Fury’s expression appeared set in stone as he didn’t move a muscle to answer your accusation.

“No, as I believe you to be powerful enough to fight back should you feel you are in danger. I could not risk that while the city and its residents are already weakened as it is.”

Your froze in an instant.

“Yes, we are indeed aware of your abilities as I am sure you’ve been told,” he spoke, shifting his hands to retrieve something from the pockets of his jacket before placing it on the table for you to see, hand merely a grasp away, “It is important to find out whether you are a possible threat to this planet—especially after having been absent for months with a person who has just attacked and laid waste to an entire city.”

The words he spoke barely clicked in your brain as everything was reduced to a low hum, the ace you had held dear to your heart and hidden in your sleeve laid open in bare sight, useless.

“Furthermore Loki’s cell had been under video surveillance.”

He gave a huff, picking up the device laying on the table and toying with it as if to mock you despite you not knowing what purpose it served. “We have seen and heard everything—“ He gave you a sharp glare as if trying to detect something within you that you didn’t dare try and figure out— “And taken immediate counter measures to assure our safety in case of your sudden arrival.”

“...So that’s what that thing is?” you spoke after a few seconds of silence had passed, only filled by both of your collective breathing and you could swore he knew how yours had grown more anxious.

“Yes.” His voice was crystal clear as he spoke, deep and striking a chord of fear within you you had decided to ignore for the past weeks. The device reflected the light painfully brightly with its silver polish as he held it between two fingers to show it to you with an air of confidence surrounding him.

“I had my team work on this device since you disappeared. It emits a sound so high that neither humans nor animals can hear it—but if our theories are correct it will penetrate through your connection to minds, unable to be shut out—“ his thumb stroked over the obvious button to the side in a threat— “Care to test it out?”

You bit your lip so hard a droplet of blood fell on your tongue and you winced at your bad habit, all sorts of sarcasm and whatnot gone from your face as you were caught by the cold grasp of fear. Somehow this seemed to slightly ease Fury from what you could pick up without utilizing your abilities, silently scolding yourself for what you had so eloquently declared as a lack of a proper pokerface.

“No,” you grumbled, begrudgingly so, while you watched him give a satisfied but oddly relieved hint of a grin. Whether that was because he was indeed using a pokerface of his own to blatantly lie or whether he honestly simply didn’t want to use the device was beyond your understanding, and you sort of glared at him in jealousy for his obvious control of emotions. Why couldn’t you just this _once_ manage to hide what you were feeling?

“Alright,” he spoke, trying to move his apparent interrogation onwards, “I really want to trust you. The fact is that you would make a marvelous addition to our team and as such, ensuring your cooperation is our top priority.”

Now this caught you even more off guard then crowds of people rushing to take videos from you as you were brought to Earth. _Almost_.

“And what do I have to do for you to trust me?” you asked, for you were now honestly at a loss for words, scrambling to collect your thoughts as you tried to fight the sudden itch of your nose by trying to rub it against your shoulder. Damn these restraints.

He studied you a while longer without saying a word which honestly started to creep you out; stared at you as if trying to peer into your very soul and figure out your deepest darkest secrets—or whatever, really. After a while he sharply turned around in his seat to glance at the mirror behind him with a curt nod, before abruptly standing and declaring to be right back. It was obvious that he was going to be deciding your ‘fate’ in a conversation with the people behind the mirror and you couldn’t help but break out in a cold sweat. Should it come to it you were indeed willing to test the device, perhaps even if it worked you could manage to escape, even though you weren’t sure if such noises might leave possible damage for you to suffer from after—

“You successfully passed the test.”

You spluttered, doing a double take in your position on the chair as you turned to stare at Fury standing casually in the doorframe as if he hadn’t just admitted to having judged you for something you had no knowledge of.

“ _Test_? What test?”

“I had agents of mine observe you through the glass to gauge whether you might have been mind manipulated yourself—we had collected all possible data from people who ever went through it and looked for symptoms within you,” he spoke, holding up a key before moving behind you, a clank following as you felt your wrists were free for you to move once more.

“You need to understand—“ he walked back to sit down, almost looking wearily at you as you rubbed your wrists despite them not actually hurting— “After the attack and your sudden arrival we had good reason to believe you were used as a spy of sorts.”

Wow, he almost managed to make you feel bad for your previous rage. It was a good argument after all, you would have most likely been wary yourself given the circumstances.

“I now see this appeared to not be the case,” he continued on, looking slightly more relaxed—which didn’t help much as you has possibly never seen a person being _that_ much constantly on edge and seemingly on the verge of snapping in half from tension—yet he still held the dreaded device in his hands while he talked, “Following this reassurance I want you to join the team of mine I kept talking about. While you certainly are rather young, 18 if I remember correctly, I believe it would be best to keep your abilities under close surveillance.”

You fought the scoff itching to be let out, you really did. And barely managed. Everything had been under control for years, had been until aliens decided Earth was apparently worth their time to viciously attack and forced you to act on instinct. But you managed to see that this would probably be the easiest way to get out of this entire disaster you found yourself in, much easier than...than _what_ actually? What would they do if you denied? You weren’t sure if you wanted to know, but that might have been merely all these movies you had watched.

“And what do you want me to do...?” you said instead, with all the uncertainties that had followed you all your life surrounding your abilities back in your heart, “What’s that team of yours?”

“The Avengers Initiative.”

You choked on the lump in your throat you had intended to swallow, coughing to breathe. _The_ Avengers Initiative? The one known all around the entire world? The one a freaking god was a part of? What were you in comparison to a man that had survived enclosed in ice for hundreds of years? To a man intelligent enough, as well as rich, to create whatever technology came to his mind in a sudden epiphany? To a man who turned into a creature fueled by rage whenever he got furious enough? To agents and spies trained to take you out with only coins and ballpoint pens?

Yes, you had done your homework—or at least gotten the basics from Thor back when you had first been briefed by him.

The point still stood, where were _you_ in the equation?

He must have sensed your obvious and unmistaken distress as he began to talk after gaining your attention by clearing his throat.

“Your abilities would provide great help; It would be nothing combat related, certainly, but gaining off-limit knowledge as well as gaining access to closed off top secret places connected to foes such as Hydra would be a definite win for our organization.”

His expression turned to slight amusement as you tried to process all the new facts and bits and pieces of information thrown at you as if you were actually strong enough to handle all of it, strong enough to handle the mere thought of that much responsibility.

“Hydra?” you asked instead, trying to at least half the amount of worry coating your voice to no avail, “What foes _are_ there?”

“Many,” he replied, utterly unhelpful, “The Avengers Initiative stands to protect our world from any kind of foes. Hydra is one of them, an authoritarian terrorist-criminal-paramilitary organization bent on world domination. It has been around for longer than any of us and will continue, should we not try to stop it.”

You could only gape at him, not even trying to pretend as if you had understood all that he had just said.

“That sounds...” you pondered the words, “...dangerous.”

“It is, yes,” he replied matter-of-factly, “Which is why your help would be greatly appreciated. You could search the agents’ minds once we have captured them, finding out what they have planned, where and how.”

He leaned forward on the table ever so slightly as if to help you in understanding the gravity of the situation...which you felt he was unsure you had grasped.

“It could save _millions_ of lives.”

Apart from the fact that you didn’t feel like you had much of a choice in the first place, something within you stirred to answer to the call for heroism. You’ve had these abilities for as long as you could remember and now had been _finally_ granted a possibility to use them for the greater good; a resolve you had always made in secret back when you were younger. That you would one day use what you had been gifted with to help others.

“Okay,” you spoke, certainty which you didn’t have about half an hour ago clear in your voice, “I’ll do it.”

———

After having been given all the details of when and how they would contact you, topped off with a phone that didn’t look all that smart and a new schedule for you to look after, you had been shoved into the hands of another agent as Fury declared that he needed to sort out a few things with that team of his, telling the agent to fly you home—as if that was such an easy task at all. Yet considering they had some sort of flying operational base as well as you as their newest Agent/Avenger of sorts, you felt like it was the _least_ they could do.

“Hello,” the stranger introduced himself with a light smile on his pale face and his hand stretched out for you to take, “I’m Agent Richards.”

You introduced yourself to him as well, shaking his hand and admiring his apparent calmness despite most likely being very well aware of who you were and what you could do. To your utter surprise you found he seemed to be mostly genuine about it, though deep within his eyes, you felt him being ever so slightly on edge. Understandably so.

You followed the stranger, blonde hair almost terribly pale itself and an utter uncombed mess on top of his head, length short enough to stick up in wild variations, yet too long to not drop slightly past his ears. There were not yet actual strands of hair fading to grey, though you were sure it might not take many more years at best; perhaps five or so. His eyes seemed kind enough to trust, you mused, light green eyes motioning you over to enter the jet situated on the weird gigantic, floating operational base you found yourself standing on top of once more. You sat with an exhausting plummet, sinking as deeply into the cushions as they allowed while you watched him knock on the door separating the cockpit from the rest to stir the person which had already been waiting and asking them to start the engine.

Right after he took a seat across from you, having taken something out of one of the many silver niches of the jet and carefully setting it down on the table before your eyes.

Immediately your hand went to stroke the familiar fabric, fingers gently tracing the few loose threads after years of wear, before moving onto the googles feeling their familiar weight resting in your hands. You could almost feel your eyes sparkling in relief and happiness as you pulled the scarf to rest comfortably around your neck, smile turning into a grin that threatened to split your face after your first, actual sign of total familiarity.

“We kept them while you were gone,” he spoke, regarding you with an expression that already told you he would be easy to get along with—a look which made utterly clear that he, for the most part at least, didn’t see you as a threat at all. Rather as a child unfairly dumped into a life of terror and death.

You blamed your overly excited smile for his assertion as you held the objects close.

“Your family picked up your belongings from the hotel room you’d been staying in,” he continued, watching you in some sort of amusement, “We have already called in ahead to tell them that you’re safe and sound.”

Now that made you think.

“What am I supposed to tell them?” It was a thought that had plagued your thoughts before, but as you neared your home you couldn’t keep the distress from rising in your chest any longer.

His smile was purely sympathetic and it eased your fears immediately.

“We’ve already talked to your family about your situation, saying that you were comatose because of injuries during the attack on New York and that you’ve been taken care of on site.”

You only blinked in response. That excuse could actually coincide—with your unyielding honesty that is. Sure, it would be terrible should they inquire more about what exactly had happened, but you might just manage to pull yourself out of it with vague responses that weren’t lies. Before you could even open your mouth he continued on,

“If they ask about any costs, tell them that Anthony Stark, aka Iron Man, took up the charges for the people who had been hurt during the attack. He knows about it too in case anyone asks for proof.”

Your smile was bright in reply as you could only thank the heavens’ for everything working so well—is what you were going to say, but upon feeling the slight tug in your chest from earlier you rethought that initially positive statement while the corners of your lips started to drop. It felt empty, purely hollow within you in a way that was truly hard to put into words. Like a literal hole through your chest, noticeable as you breathed and the air left in a cold rush.

Subconsciously your hands grasped the fabric to your chest, tightly, breath slightly shallow as your stare was as empty as you felt.

“Is everything okay?” The words that snapped you out of your daze were spoken with clear worry by the man, pretty much stranger, seated opposite of you. You almost didn’t notice that the roaring of the engine had stopped and the sudden silence had startled you as you came to.

“It’s fine,” you muttered, following him as he stepped out of the jet, your hands tightly clasping the goggles. As fine as possible at the moment, that is. He seemed to give no further objections even though you knew he wasn’t convinced; yet having no reason to pry he let it rest.

“Remember the communication device,” he called to you as you had said your goodbye, gaining a nod from you as you stumbled in your path. The Agent had told you that Fury might send a notification at any given time for you to answer, as well as declaring himself to help introduce you to the new world you inevitably found yourself in. The world of agents and spies, of probable and inevitable lies and deceit—even though you would try and refuse the call for easy ways out.

And the world of the Avengers apparently, even though you still seemed to be designated to be an agent as number one, extracting information from other spies.

You barely managed to ring the doorbell to your home, having stood in front of the door for what seemed like the better half of a year—you could have _sworn_ you had seen the seasons change, though that was probably a result of your exhaustion as well as, perhaps, lingering effects of whatever it was the organization had drugged you with to capture you. The sound of your familiar doorbell echoing all the way to your ears made immediate tears spring to your eyes as you realized that you were home, finally back home.

Just what exactly had you gotten yourself into, _indeed_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contrary to popular belief I like this chapter! Even though I hated the draft!  
> And another character I created for the story, yay! :O
> 
> All your lovely comments supported me in writing another chapter that quickly! So thank you very much!! :)


	23. Adapting To Abnormous Changes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One year has passed and Fury sends you on a mission in New York.

Life could change drastically in just one year.

One entire year, in which you were constantly trying to finally adapt to the new schedule the head of the allegedly very secret organization itself, Director Fury, had burdened you with the moment you had arrived back on Earth. A schedule he had forced into your prior routine, in which your main focus had merely consisted of surviving school—now you supposedly also had to survive agents and spies. In conclusion; you were stressed to an extent to which you questioned whether you would ever be able to graduate at all.

Yet despite all these new adjustments on Fury’s behalf, the worst of your apparent anxiety actually had nothing to do with him. Not so far, at least.

The fact that you had been appointed as an Avenger had been kept a secret for now and was only open information for S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers themselves. Still, they deemed it necessary for you to receive proper training, and you really didn’t have it in you to object—after all it was mostly training in self-defense, therefore something that could very much be of use at any given time. The person appointed to teaching you the mythical ways of how to defend yourself—how to disarm someone with guns pointed to your head, how to free yourself from a chokehold, how to take someone out in just a few steps as well as many more techniques—was none other than Agent Richards, who had also offered you to call him Evan almost immediately on meeting him for the second time.

He was surprisingly strong—nothing you could have possibly gathered from his rather lanky statue and constant wearing of rather cliche, black suits—as well as truly determined and thorough in his training, for your muscles hadn’t stopped aching _once_ since you had begun this entire ordeal.

You couldn’t even quite say that you were getting this entire education for free, seeing as how you repaid this debt by being some sort of Agent after all. Oftentimes Fury’s people would ask you more about your abilities, and once you had even been brought in to extract information from an enemy agent.

That was an experience you would not even in your dreams declare anywhere near pleasant, not endurable or anything of the sort—not even if you had been clubbed in the head and been cursed to only talk utter rubbish—for the horrors you had endured purely through seeing what some people were capable of merely imagining could not be eradicated by any force in the world.

It was simply horrendous, you admitted to yourself, horrendous how deep down into the rabbit hole some people could throw themselves; their morals shredded to bits by the world’s best shredder, pieces afterwards having been blasted with some of the most impressive new technological invention crafted by Tony Stark himself, to not let a single fragment of common sense remain intact.

Maybe you should have hoped they’d kill themselves with their little implanted bombs they liked to hide in their teeth before you even had the chance to look into their minds, no matter how evil this might have sounded to anyone but you.

Yes, all of this was indeed reason to panic enough, sending every normal person spiraling straight down into hell, yet it wasn’t what _truly_ made your daily life feel like a living hell. _No_ , to blame was the constant talk about what had happened back in New York. Back during the ‘Tragedy of New York’ as people liked to call it.

They knew you had been there and they were aware you had been injured in the process—now they wanted every single little itty bitty detail of what had happened and where and how, and who you met and if you met anyone at all and more questions, at which point you blatantly decided to tune out every single time, because you literally just couldn’t take it any longer.

So much talking about a time you wanted to forget, _desperately_ tried to forget in your grief and mourning of the friends you had lost, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to let go of the memories. Couldn’t also, because people apparently were incapable to last a day without bringing it right back up to the surface. And with each time and each talk of the past, the same hollow feeling threatened to engulf you once more, the pure longing for something supposed to make you whole, and with each time you couldn’t help but wonder how he was faring, throwing your entire process of coping with the situation directly overboard.

The Prince, sentenced to rot for the rest of his life in chains had barely made it to a year imprisoned, if he was still as well—and hopefully sane—as you wanted to believe. For most of the time there was nothing to be felt, not the tiniest, little sliver of hope for anything to ensure you that he was indeed still alive.

There had only been _one_ occasion. One occasion about one month after you had tried to once more neatly fit into the life you had previously vacated. A tug scarcely strong enough to make you stumble over nothing as you walked along the corridor of your school, barely catching yourself before the force was gone as quickly as it had appeared. And left you none the wiser.

Life could indeed change dramatically in just one year, you noted with a heavy breath dragged out through your nose as your communication device vibrated violently in your pocket, alerting you to a mission the _lovely_ Director Fury apparently decided to send you on in the middle of your math class.

You grimaced.

All these sudden notifications forced you to a life of lies and the stab jolting through your heart whenever you still gave your best to contort it into a half-truth didn’t subside, no matter how many times you had done so.

Stringing up excuses about having an important appointment related to your sickness, an excuse crafted meticulously by Tony Stark as he backed you up with proof you couldn’t even dream of how he had gotten it, you scrambled to get your things with an apologetic glance to your friends as you rushed down the stairs in obvious hurry, people on break stumbling out of the way before you could accidentally push them over.

Just _how_ where you ever going to graduate like that?

———

“London.”

“Say _what_?”

A hand shot out from within the black car parking directly in front of your school, pushing the door open for you from the inside, as if you were incapable of doing it yourself. It wasn’t the first time you thought it, but you couldn’t help yourself as your eyes glanced at the car in disdain; _Straight out of Men in Black_ , you chimed, no longer even wanting to chuckle at the irony of actual agents driving actual cars that looked directly ripped from a movie.

“Well, hello to you too, Evan,” you grumbled half heartedly, letting yourself fall down into the seat next to him before the sound of the car’s engine filled the air around you and he drove off in one swift move. He gave a light laugh, for the both of you knew that you were simply exhausted from Fury’s latest obsession over some YouTube videos that started to pop up about two days ago in the far corners and crevices of the Internet. It didn’t have many views, which meant even fewer people were actually concerned about what it showed and even fewer would be willing enough to give up resources such as time and money—though mostly money probably—to drive by and see it for themselves.

You couldn’t say that you were particularly convinced either; sure, you never knew what might be possible nowadays, with gods and aliens and agents and whatnot evading your life as if free real estate, yet it could have also been a mere trick; ropes gently lifting cars from the ground to make it appear as if they were floating weightlessly in the air, expertly timed cuts to create the illusion of objects disappearing in seeming nothingness before being spit out in another corner.

Evan cast you a quick glance while he was driving and it was obvious that he didn’t buy whatever was happening either.

After a quick switch to the jet as usual, you threw yourself into your seat, mindlessly tapping the surface of the table separating you from the agent as he spread out a couple of folders for you to see.

“Clearly Fury really thinks that there’s something off about it...and maybe we shouldn’t be so quick to judge after all we’ve seen,” you mumbled into your scarf sitting softly around your neck and warming it as well as giving you your valued sense of anonymity.

“I agree, even though I’m more inclined to believe that he sends us for you to get some practice—“ you shifted and leaned a bit forward at his words, propping your arms on the table— “After all it doesn’t seem to be all that threatening. Maybe for you to get some information from the people that own the place.”

He looked thoughtful for a moment, before giving a simple shrug.

“Or maybe there isn’t really anything and he just wants you to have some victims to practice on.”

Now that didn’t sound so nice.

You gave him your best smoldering glare and a light punch to the shoulder, though the expression didn’t rest long on your face, as you couldn’t find it in you to even pretend to be mad, eased even further by his gentle laugh.

The both of you startled as a ring sounded through the plane, echoing along the walls, before Evan picked up his phone and stood from his chair to take the call.

“Hello?”

You watched him silently walk up and down the little space in the jet as he was once more deep in thought, this time for real though, judged by just how deeply the lines on his forehead were drawn as he furrowed his brows more and more with every passing second.

All in all you felt much more like an Agent’s _Apprentice_ than anything else, though you suspected that made a lot of sense. Who in their right mind was born with the skillset required to work with stealth in silence and shadows as if made for the job? For now your only tasks seemed to consist of following Evan wherever he was being sent off to—though you could probably also see it the other way around as Fury had him immediately stationed near your hometown to follow the schedule he had burdened the both of you with, declaring him to thoroughly train you in fighting and defending yourself with whatever weapons you currently had at your disposal.

That had, in one lesson, included a _spoon_.

And you would never forget just how much damage you could do to someone with such a simple piece of cutlery. Honestly, Even didn’t really _look_ like a fighter, yet could more than simply hold himself in battle if necessary. It was truly astonishing.

“Understood. We will be there shortly.”

With a quiet crackle of static the call had been ended and left Evan standing with a silent look cast absently to the floor.

“What is it?” you spoke up, remaining seated as you cautiously watched him stand among all the silver, metal interior; roar of the machine deafening when you started to zone out upon waiting for his reply.

He gave an almost defeated sigh as he sat down across from you again, collecting his thoughts.

“It seems there was a _commotion_ in London,” he said with a grimace, picking up a pen lying on the table from earlier note-taking and twirling it in his hands, “Apparently some people actually came to check on it, and now one of them is missing. They had meant to call the police, but _obviously_ —“ He gave a small grin at that— “Our people had hijacked their connection and we received the call instead.”

“So,” you spoke, piercing his unhelpful puzzle pieces of information together as usual, “Now we _actually_ have something to solve and Fury _might_ have been right?”

“Seems like it.”

———

Your foot came into direct contact with a puddle as soon as you stepped outside the jet, face contorting to disgust as you felt the water soak your shoe and sock. A look towards the sky showed no hints of grey, even though the entire place seemed to have been thoroughly drenched by masses of water. With a quick motion you adjusted the mask you had been given, assuring that it was properly in place to hide most of your face—much like a surgical mask, but completely black and made of thicker material, covering your nose and mouth with slight changes to the fabric to enable you to properly breathe through it.

Hiding your face seemed the safest bet for everyone involved, to ensure that you might live a normal life apart from all the agent stuff going on around you.

The rest of your clothes consisted of some sort of agent-like suit, black and more on the tight side. To help you fit into the theme, you liked to joke. It was connected to your mask through the fabric covering your neck, to further make sure it stays in place. Meanwhile the sleeves of your suit only went all the way barely past your elbows to give you enough freedom to have physical contact to people whose memories you were trying to invade.

Fury’s team had created the suit for you after you had thoroughly explained your abilities to them as well as your desire to hide your identity, and luckily they had listened to your feedback.

Evan was already out to access the situation, and you couldn’t help but feel as if he _really_ was in charge of protecting _you_. His irritation swapped in strong waves over to you and once you stepped up from behind him and beheld the sight, you couldn’t help but reciprocate the feeling. People dressed like police officers, who you assumed to be members of S.H.I.E.L.D., looked positively horrified and shaken, standing almost motionless around and halfway tucked behind the cars they came in, while some of them lied stunned on the cold and wet stone floor.

“What happened here?” Evan spoke as he took a few steps closer towards the agents, lighthearted attitude he usually carried around you gone as he took on a more professional approach, most likely acting as their superior. You simply followed suit behind, being long since used to his switch in behavior.

“The lost woman reappeared,”a man stepping up from behind one of the apparent ‘police cars’ said, crossing the way over to Evan with quick and hurried steps, “We wanted to interrogate her, but some sort of energy...red, powerful energy lashed out and knocked our men down.”

He didn’t even need to gesture for the three of you to once more take a look at your surroundings, playing out the scene in your head. A couple of agents were still trying to shake off the initial shock and rise to their feet, stumbling as if in a daze.

“Where is that woman now?” Evan continued on.

The man before him seemed to stumble over his words as if trying to grasp what he had seen, before finally forming a sentence,

“Some man appeared all of a sudden...in a flash of lightning—“ Your ears perked up considerably at that— “And took her with him, just like that.”

Evan’s glower continued, waiting for the man to finally come to the conclusion they were, most likely, all already expecting.

“We believe it might’ve been Thor.”

With your eyes widening in a mixture of emotions you couldn’t hope to name, you caught side of a symbol burned into the street, recognizing it from one of the books Loki had shown you on rare occasions. Your body tensed up immediately with what you thought was anticipation; anticipation not inherently positive or negative. Thor was here, yes. That was good, great even, a connection to your friends back on Asgard after an entire year of not knowing how they were.

But he was gone already, disappeared back to wherever, Asgard probably, and with him your only possible connection. For as much as you had tried whenever those idiots in school had once more reminded you of who you had lost, you couldn’t seem to reach Loki. The distance between the both of you must have been too far—after all, back on Asgard you had problems merely connecting to him from your temporary chambers to his prison cell; so it was no wonder that you couldn’t pick up on anything.

You only knew— _felt_ —that he was alive. That needed to be enough.

“Thor,” you mumbled quietly as if to reassure yourself that, yes, he was indeed here and yes, he was indeed gone now. From the corner of your eye you caught Evan throwing you a slightly concerned glance, yet paid no further mind to it as you were lost in thoughts, determination steadily gaining on you.

Wasn’t there a mention of portals in those YouTube videos?

———

“Are you sure we want to keep looking? It’s getting late.”

The voice of Evan sounded tired. Something you were aware you should be feeling _too_ after you had been searching the facility left and right for hints and clues to where a portal could possibly lead to _not_ just the other side of the room, for hours on end. These two friends of the person who had gone missing only to reappear and disappear another time, hadn’t been a helpful source of information; the woman, Darcy, and her intern, whose name you didn’t catch, could only confirm what your colleagues had already told you as soon as you had arrived:

They had come to investigate the abnormal situation they had discovered due to the videos found on YouTube, and found out that the rumors were actually true; shortly before their friend went missing. Apparently they were just as shocked as the rest of them regarding their friend’s sudden rise from the apparent dead as well as her sudden disappearance with Thor and general whereabouts.

“Yes,” you spoke, determination so set in your voice you could hear Evan stifle a sigh over the communication device you held to your ear, “If I find a way to Asgard, I could ask Thor about whatever was going on here myself.”

Another defeated sigh over the intercom.

“I know you’re right, and I know that your motivations to visit your friends are probably the actual reason you’re looking so thoroughly—“ _Busted_ — “But we can always continue tomorrow.”

He was using his voice of reason, as usual, trying to call you back whenever you were about to go overboard with something. Just like back a couple of months ago, when you had pushed yourself to discover the enemy spy’s secret memories with such intensity that you had nearly overexerted yourself from both the stress inflicted on your own body, as well as from what you had seen. Those terribly, agonizingly disgusting things you had seen in that man’s head—you could picture Evan vividly in front of you, chasm between his blonde eyebrows deepening with every time you didn’t listen to his advice—you were sure half of his wrinkles were actually your fault, the other half, _granted_ , his family.

“If you want to you can go, I want to try at least for an hour or so more.”

Or _two_ , you added in your head. Or three. Or four. However long it might take to find a way, you were willing to pull through with it.

“You know I can’t,” came his reply, before the both of you resumed your search in silence. Only crickets could be vaguely heard creating their harsh but captivating melodies outside, few birds scattered in the night to aid in their concert, chirping and singing despite the darkness. All the while you sneaked around in an old, abandoned facility, twisting and turning every single stone in your path to try and trigger some sort of super secret pathway to Asgard. Evan was searching near the entrance, taking a better look at the cars strewn about—whenever they weren’t flying at least.

Yes, Evan sounded tired, and you _knew_ you should be feeling the same, but you _couldn’t_. Anywhere around here, anytime now you might possibly find something that could help you in returning to Asgard, to visit your friends. To visit the one person who carried the missing piece of your soul, the one person whose piece you carried within you. To _Loki_.

You bit your lip in frustration as the tug, the constant tug within your chest, tightened especially uncomfortably for a second and you couldn’t help but stagger a few steps forward with the sudden sensation. As if it was trying to lead you somewhere—as if trying to reunite with its missing piece itself. And so you took a deep breath and started to brush everything happening around you completely aside, tuning out your physical surroundings to let the tug within your soul guide you on your path, guide you further and further into the depths of the facility. Your shoes scraped against the asphalt, dust, dirt and stones swirling into the air with every step as you shuffled along a corridor, glancing left and right for any signs if abnormalities.

Such as what you were seeing directly in front of you.

With a squint of your eyes you declared the air around a certain spot near the wall to your left to be stirring abnormally, as if heat was radiating from it. Your heart began hammering in your chest as you stretched your hand out, carefully getting ready for anything that might happen should your skin actually come into contact with whatever laid out in front of you, breathing quickening as the tension tightened like hands around your throat and started burning uncomfortably in your chest, constricting your access to oxygen and leaving you behind breathless and anxious.

Nothing happened.

Maybe Evan was right—you were sleep-deprived. You couldn’t help the way your face fell immediately, all tension gone and replaced by bone deep sadness, as you realized it had been a mere figment of your imagination. Your hands fell back down to your sides as you clenched them to fists—you had been _so_ sure that this method would work, that your soul could actually guide you into the right direction. So very, completely, utterly sure. You thought you _felt_ it after all, had that feeling been wrong all along? Mere wishful thinking?

“Alright Evan,” you called over the device, unable to keep the grief and disappointment from dripping into your words like resin down a tree trunk after it had been stabbed—just like your heart, “I guess we can go for today—“

As you turned around, you braced yourself to run against a piece of debris standing slightly crooked right in front of you, debris you hadn’t seen before as you had purely relied on your connection to Loki; next to being too exhausted to properly see without a slight blur coating your eyes like a thin veil. But there was no collision—nothing happened. Instead, you found yourself relentlessly falling through midair for a couple of seconds and you gave a startled yelp in response, which easily turned into a scream as you were falling still.

“Evan—!”

Your exclamation was cut short as you came into harsh contact with water, forcing your arms and legs to work over their shocked reaction to swim to the surface, to break through and desperately gasp for oxygen as you tried to blink the water from your eyes away in a frenzy. Your heartbeat went from 180 to 0 to 180 again much too quickly as you fought to orient yourself in an unknown body of water, flailing around as you tried to reach something, _anything_ to steady yourself with. Luckily the current wasn’t strong enough to pull you down for too long, but with difficulty, yet all the determination from a few minutes prior. you managed to pull yourself onto something akin to a shore.

You gasped, heaving a breath as you heavily plopped down on your back to catch and calm yourself against whatever had just happened.

Staring into the sky you blinked.

And blinked.

And blinked again, only to find that the sky still held the same radiating darkness brightened by a multitude of starts and galaxies and nebula that _shouldn’t_ be visible from within the factory, neither from anywhere on Earth. In sudden realization you forced your exhausted body to rise, stumbling on your unsteady footing as you gazed around, eyes widening as indescribable relief flooded you, flooded the connection you could once more feel and which vaguely radiated back with palpable confusion.

You were back on Asgard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that we chronologically made our way to Thor 2, weeee!  
> That means in about...(checking my notes) two to three chapters I’ll pull a full 180 and let us move beyond space!
> 
> Guardians we’re coming!! :D


	24. A Patient Prisoner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two prisoners have been patiently waiting, one of them breaks free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Trigger Warning!—
> 
> Descriptions of Angst, Physical Violence (Choking, Blood) towards the end

That couldn’t be true.

After a year of forcing yourself to try and forget, to move on and pretend like whatever happened didn’t happen. After all these tears you had shed in moments in which you felt truly and utterly vulnerable, moments in which you craved nothing more than the friends you were certain you were never able to see again. After all this time you had gotten practically accustomed to the fact that you were most likely going to die early either way, having seen what nightmarish organizations such as Hydra were doing and have been doing around unaware people for years and years on end, knowing that a single slip up could lead to many people dying.

But the stars shining down brightly on your dripping wet form, the light breeze trying to dry you and the soft glow of nebula above you brightening your path. But the gold of the palace reflecting the vague light from the sky above, building in the distance growing closer still as you steadily moved along, watery footprints getting less by the second while you thanked the heavens for your agent-like suit being so terribly water-repellant.

It seemed too good to be true, yet it _had_ to be.

———

You found your way back to the castle easily enough, avoiding whatever patrols might have crossed you in your way and sneaking yourself into the heads of others, getting them off your trail as you moved through the dimly lit corridors all the way to the entrance of the dungeons.

The much too loud thumping of your heart against your ribcage hurt you almost physically, drumming against your ribs as if ambient drums. At times you could honestly but wonder, how your heartbeat hadn’t already alerted everyone across the entire galaxy of your whereabouts—even though, after all the times on your ‘ _easy_ ’ missions with Evan, asking him about whether he could hear your heartbeat for it was all you had heard, it should have been clear that you were only overreacting. In all honesty, every situation regarding your newfound espionage profession made your heart pound so harshly you feared going into cardiac arrest on a regular basis.

You fiercely shook your head, ridding the thoughts spiraling into palpable panic and instead picking up your pace. _Focus_ , you muttered, _focus on what’s important_.

After all this time surrounded by agents it was safe to say that you had partially lost your conscience when it came to using your abilities. Not completely so, but in important situations and for mundane tasks only—such as avoiding attention by distracting the people in question—you seemed much too relaxed about using something that could be alarmingly dangerous if placed in the wrong hands.

You almost startled before pulling yourself into a little alcove amidst the wall, halting your breath as you pushed yourself against the stone. _Invisibility_ , you mused, would have been _much_ more useful than flight—a thought often plaguing your mind, but especially in that moment, as you saw a cluster of guards emerge from the staircase leading down to the dungeons. Quite a lot of them, stern faces on each and you readied yourself to use your abilities should the need arise. Luckily they seemed much too exhausted and distracted, and you couldn’t help but wonder—and fear—what had them so apparently tired out. As soon as they had sufficiently retreated you eased yourself out of the alcove, following the path they had come from.

Nothing had ever felt so familiar to you, as the staircase down to the underground prison. You could have blindly told which one you were on and how many you were down, the little bowls of contained fire helping to see despite you not needing them to know your way safely down to the dungeons. Even the slightly musty smell was a welcome one, for it was one more reminder to help you know that everything was _real_.

With a final step you peered through the entrance and into the room, cautiously taking in the familiar sight of prison cells littered all across in a tidy arrangement. You still remained close to the walls to refrain from being found out—even though whenever someone made any move to look, you had them immediately believe to have seen nothing. So much time had passed in which you were sure you were never coming back, time in which you had often beat yourself up about not even having been able to say a proper goodbye in the first place. You couldn’t manage to stifle a choked sob as you stepped into the open, droplet of water winding its way down your hair and onto the floor.

The tug in your chest contracted almost painfully as your eyes immediately flew up to meet Loki.

_Loki_ , who was standing behind the glowing barrier with his hands touching the white, solid part of the cell as if caught in complete bewilderment, eyes surprisingly wide open and mouth slightly agape as the both of you stared at each other as if unsure whether this was reality. You could just tell how lonely he felt, how terribly devastated he had felt after you had gone and no one was left to visit him and it pained you to imagine that he had already been in solitary confinement for the better part of a year. Everything he felt flooded you immediately as soon as you had locked eyes, emotions overcoming you as you tried hard to ignore just how much impact they had on you. Noticing the shaky breath escaping his throat he must have been going through the same process.

Everything around you ceased to exist as you took hesitant steps closer towards him, as close as the barrier separating you would allow. Your eyes were still just as wide open as his, not yet trusting the scene playing out in front of you to be real, but you let your facial expression turn into a wide, contagious smile nonetheless, bright and filled with joy and mirth. You couldn’t help but note how his hair had grown since you had last seem him, from barely covering the nape of his neck to actually slightly cascading down his shoulders in dark, ebony waves.

“Loki,” you finally breathed, breaking the silence weighing heavy on the both of you. It felt great to be able to say his name after it had been reduced to a mere Voldemort-like, taboo topic to talk about during your time back on Earth. Some people had even claimed it to be a bad omen, to simply say the word. He took in a deep breath upon hearing his own name being spoken, having stopped midway through breathing in surprise.

He said your name back, barely a whisper, as if he still couldn’t believe his own eyes. It almost got stuck in his throat as he said it, eyes squinting while searching your face as if looking for a clue that all of this was an illusion; and you couldn’t help the way your face immediately fell at realizing that all this time locked up must have taken a gigantic toll on his sanity. What had he been doing all day? _Reading_?

There certainly _was_ quite the stack of books in the corner, still. Even more so than before, literature of all kinds of sizes and covers shining in different colors littering various spaces throughout the little cell; the chair, the table, the bed, the floor.

“Sorry it’s just—“ You struggled to find the right words to say as your overjoyed disbelief was still stuck in your every little motion; the shortened breath you took as you formed a reply, your eyes as they restlessly scanned Loki’s face, the constant tug of your hands as they buried themselves in your hair— “I’m just _so_ happy to see you.”

The distraught expression contorting his face fell away almost immediately, rare, light smile curling his lips upwards in obvious joy. However slim and tiny it might seem, his grin was filled with so much sincerity and happiness, you could have been sure your heart might burst at any given time from how happy his reaction made you feel.

“I believe you might say I am too,” he replied, his phrasing appearing to have retreated to being guarded as if in an attempt to shield himself from the undeniable distress your inevitable departure would bring. Yet the words’ meaning were clear as day—not even the darkest grimace accompanying them could have shaken the emotions you felt radiating from him, so strongly you couldn’t believe you had ever dared to try and forget it.

As if wanting to disperse the tension created by both of your honesty he moved on, gesturing to you with a nod of his head and an almost unrecognizable frown, for his lips were still curled upwards.

“What is it you are wearing?”

The remark pulled you back immediately, reminding you of how you had gotten here in the first place—a fact you had forgotten at seeing him, alive and as well as he could possibly be while being locked up, and it took you all your willpower to actually tear your gaze from him to remind you of, _yes_ , what exactly _were_ you wearing?

“The Director of that secret organization on Earth, Fury, made me some sort of Agent. Or apprentice rather,” you mumbled, fumbling with the mask covering your mouth and nose to take it off and leave it hanging around your throat instead, discarding the anonymity you felt no need for while being near him, “It’s why I’m here. There were _abnormalities_ I had to look at and I fell through a portal—“ At least that’s what you believed the reason for your sudden arrival on Asgard to be— “I think.”

He gave a thoughtful nod paired with a slight glare. “That man who had intended to use you as a **_weapon_**?”, he recalled, bite in his voice, disdain coating it, “I see he succeeded.”

“I’m not his _weapon_ ,” you reasoned, “I guess I’m...a spy?”

His expression did not really soften at your words, even though you could feel that he wasn’t inherently mad at you or anything of the sort; mostly confused. You wondered whether the both of you were even capable of hating each other, seeing as how you were being connected for all eternity. Must be a terrible fate to completely and honest to god hate a part of you residing within someone else. Would that be hating yourself or rather the person in question?

“It’s not like it was my idea, he _did_ threaten me—“ You barely managed to catch how his face contorted to almost comical horror for a split second as you continued on— “But that’s not important right now.”

The incredulous stare etched onto his face almost made it seem as if he wanted to tell you that, _yes_ , it was important. And with the words quietly echoing along over to you that theory was proven correct, no matter if he had wanted you to know or not. The almost verbal connection you had developed back one year ago seemed to be breaking through once more, slowly but steadily, back of your mind filled by his voice and you had no doubt yours was in his.

“I mean,” you stumbled a bit over your words, still trying to process everything and coming to terms with how your connection was strengthening with every second, “Technically I’m here because of a mission, but—no, it’s _not_ that important.”

There was a smirk tugging at his lips, contorting it into a smug grimace, a challenging glint in his eyes that just _told_ you he was not going to let you back out of it. Would it count as treason to Earth if you were to tell him anything about it? Not that it was any of your concern, truly, but it did make you wonder. One might argue he had a part of you after all, so couldn’t it be merely like telling yourself? You gave a snort at your unnecessary thought process and heard Loki let out a light amused huff of air as well, no doubt having heard you.

Lifting your gaze to once more stare at the prince you couldn’t believe how much you had missed him. As if the tears you had spilled weren’t enough proof of the fact, but seeing him made you all the more aware of how much you needed each other. After all this time the hole you had found to rest heavily in your chest was filled out, you felt patched up, almost whole. That was just what it was like, and how it would be, forever on. How you would feel with him, how you would feel without him.

And—you _really_ needed to keep your wandering thoughts in check for Loki could easily read all that was going on in your head at that moment.

“Okay,” you mumbled, clutching your hair and silently thanking Loki for deciding to not openly address this intimate kind of situation. Knowing someone’s every thought left very few of the anonymity you valued, even if it felt far less necessary around him—it was still something you felt you couldn’t live without. Not after all the horrors you had witnessed.

You could feel Loki give you the hint of an understanding nod, concerned glint in his green eyes and couldn’t help but flinch and direct your gaze to the ground in response. All of this was definitely going to take some time getting used to.

To ease the tense atmosphere that had just begun to form after your mutual understanding of just _how_ much you could hear and see and feel from the other person, you sat down on the floor. The smile on your face brightened as he mirrored your movement, far less hesitation than the last time he had done so. With that you started filling him in; On Fury, the organization, on Evan, your training and everything in between. All the way up to the current mission you were technically still currently working on. He truly wasn’t happy, but you doubted anyone would be after hearing how Fury had threatened you with some kind of torture device crafted specifically for mind readers.

In return he told you what he had done while you were gone—and everything he didn’t want to admit was spoken into the back of your mind either way. There hadn’t been much. You had been right for the most part, he had indeed been reading. At times his mother had visited as she had done many times before, and your concerns eased slightly at the thought of him not having been _all_ alone for a year.

Even so, as you looked up from the floor after a moment of silence once you had finished talking, you almost yelped in surprise seeing the Queen herself stand beside Loki in his cell and immediately scrambled to stand. He didn’t seem nearly as startled as he turned to glance at her, only slightly surprised while he slowly rose to his feet as well.

“Your—your majesty,” you said quickly, messily curtsying while the Queen only gave a warm chuckle, panic easing away ever so slightly at the warmth and aura of familiarity she created. How did she even get into the cell without you noticing her appearing?

“I came to speak to my son,” she began, regarding you with a kind smile that further loosened your fears, a knot being gently pried open, nerves bustling and jolting with energy despite the blockade, “But as it seems he already does have a visitor.”

There was nothing but undeniable kindness behind her words as she spoke to you, slight concern coating her voice so quietly, you barely caught it. Apparently she noticed that you did—probably due to the no doubt worried expression on your face—and actually voiced her thoughts.

“It is dangerous for you to be here,” she explained, intertwining her hands over her soft, sky blue dress in a calm gesture which carried all her grace, even though you caught her lips thin for the split fraction of a second, “The All-Father is already truly displeased with the Midgardian’s, Jane Foster’s appearance.”

She paused while you processed the information, having perked up at hearing the name and silently confirming it to be the person you had been looking for—not that it was your _actual_ reason for being on Asgard, you were _well_ aware.

“I am unsure how he would react if he were to find you,” the Queen continued. By now there was _indeed_ an unmistakable hint of concern in her voice and you couldn’t help but bite your lip under the tension. If even the very Queen was worried it couldn’t mean anything good for you.

Suddenly she turned, eyes widening for a split second before softening as she stared into nothingness.

“Yes, I am in a conversation with your brother.”

_Thor_.

Her expression faltered and in a swift motion she directed her glance at Loki, eyes filled with fondness and pure love as she regarded him with a slight tilt of her head. There was initial surprise tinted ugly with doubt radiating from Loki as he looked her right into her eyes—but it too, softened, as the seconds went on.

“I love you, my son,” she spoke, and you noticed Loki stiffening at her words, something inside of him forcing him to stay quiet, keeping him from saying the words he so desperately wanted to say back to her, “Please—“ Her gaze flicked over from him to you, before moving right back to Loki— “Stay safe.”

Before your very eyes she started to dissolve into bright green light, apparent apparition of her disappearing. Just as the prince had collected himself enough to utter the words he wished to say she was gone.

There was a beat of silence in which you watched Loki struggle at not having replied, a struggle only expressed through miniscule movements of his eyes staring at the spot she had been standing at mere seconds prior, as well as how he pressed his lips into a firm line after swallowing the lump in his throat.

You had barely managed to open your mouth, as a sudden scream rang through the dungeons, echoed along the halls and tore through your head with vehement brutality. In an instinctive movement you tried to cover your ears, but it was useless; the scream bashing its way through and into your mind like a battering ram was more violent than the one entering your ears. There was so much death, terror and panic all of a sudden as you struggled to keep standing, struggled to understand what was happening all of a sudden, strength within you barely enough to keep you standing after days of getting no proper sleep and the exhaustion from traveling through portals to the one place you desired to return to the most—

It was just all too much.

_**[Stay—me.]** _

A voice broke through the thoughts and pained screams and wails tearing into your head that weren’t your own, broke through then battle screams resounding through the room littered with prisoners. With energy you didn’t think you still had you raised your head, meeting Loki’s eyes—wide open, darting over your face in a rush as if trying to gauge whether you were alright. Shaking yourself inwardly as well as your body in a desperate attempt to distinguish all these sudden sensations, you noticed that the prince looked just as pained as you did.

This connection seemed to have more drawbacks than perks as of late.

Your name echoed through your head over and over as your bleary mind refused to focus on anything but Loki’s pained expression.

Your abilities. _Your_ abilities were the reason he was hurting like that. Most likely having picked up on your unnecessary self-deprecating thoughts the call of your name in your head grew louder, more penetrating against the constant twist and turn of waves, of screams trying to drown you in their currents of terror.

**_[—Run!]_ **

You were almost sure it resounded through the air around you as well as through your head, but you still couldn’t find it in you to break out of the haze you felt yourself in. No training by spies could have possibly prepared you for the mental strain of hearing so many people screaming in terror of their imminent death right in your mind, louder than your own inner voice, drowning it out until panic was all that you felt and rendered you motionless and frozen in place. Against all odds you finally turned, only to literally feel the color draining from your face until there was nothing but white, a blank sheet of paper where your head had once been, empty of thoughts, of anything but screams.

There was a creature standing right in front of you and not knowing any better, you could have very well declared it to be death itself. There were horns protruding from all over the creature’s body, colored a sickly dark brown to grey with red markings on its face looking eerily like bloody stains. You eyes shifted to look at the rest of its body as you still found yourself frozen by unmistakable, unshakable fear and couldn’t help but blanch even further at the actual, crimson blood splatters littering its torso, its arms, its hands.

Before even a further second could fall by, its hand was around your throat.

Everything in your head blanked as it lifted you in the air, as you feet left the stone floor beneath you. Instinctively you started clawing at it, your hands and arms locking themselves around the arm holding you to support your weight, all the while desperately gasping for air despite it seeming futile. Your feet, dangling uselessly about, forced themselves into motion as you tried to kick at the creature before you, tried to hold onto it with your legs to ease the strain your hands alone had at supporting yourself to not be hanged by your neck.

_**[Mortal—]** _

You heard it speak in your mind which ran haywire at its ugly tone, nothing compared to the soft, almost velvet feel of Loki’s voice echoing within your head at times. The creature’s voice sounded like nothing but rough sandpaper scraping over raw patches of skin, and you couldn’t even recoil at the sound as it sounded from within you and all your movements were reduced to kicks, punches and failing gasps for air.

_**[But not the mortal containing the Aether.]** _

Another voice sounded in the back of all the noise currently roaming around your head, a familiar one. There was panic, undoubtedly so, pained gasps following the words as distraught as yours and you couldn’t help but wonder, somewhere far away in the far recesses of your mind which were surprisingly active and bustling with thoughts, if Loki would die should you do so.

In a frantic effort you used one of your hands pulling your weight to grasp onto a knife sitting in a holster around your waist, pulling it out with shaking but quick movements and jammed it into its arm, hearing it crack as it tore through its ragged skin. A futile effort made purely in vain. There was a scoff as it used its other hand to calmly pull it out, tossing it to the floor with a clang sounding much too loudly in your ears, blood thumping heavily through your veins louder than it should be, yet the noise of metal clanking to the floor penetrated through your head like a needle tore through wet paper.

_**[Useless.]** _

With that the grip around your throat tightened, world growing darker as it burned, burned like literal fire entering your nerves and dancing with mirth, ugly smell of burning flesh entering your nose and trying to coax you to gag, mocking you for your terrible luck. Finally back to the place you had desperately hoped to return to, only to die at the hands of the very next creature crossing your path.

Dying right in front of the other half of your soul.

You couldn’t help the tear dripping down your chin in agony, physical and mental. Couldn’t help your eyelashes starting to droop against all the deafening noise surrounding you. But even as the world seemed to fail you, the consistent, positively panicked yell of your name and punching of hands against concrete, of magic surging through the air enclosed unfairly in a cell out of your reach, magic only to be felt through your connection with Loki—even then you were urged on to fight.

Overcoming your state of frozen panic and the definite lack of oxygen reaching your brain, body being purely fueled by adrenaline your hands shot out.

And grabbed the creature’s head.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can’t believe that it’s 6 am and I’m still awake and I have to work Monday—  
> This is the point were I would like to repeat that this is my first Fanfiction that is longer than 1k words (my last attempt at a one shot was when I was 17) AND I don’t have a beta reader?
> 
> Do people actually have beta readers? I don’t know haha
> 
> The creature, is Kurse...Algrim...That dude, yes. I’m not sure if that was obvious enough to be honest.
> 
> Hope you’re all still fine during Corona! Stay healthy and safe! :)


	25. A Close Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Preparations are made to deal with the attackers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Trigger Warning!—
> 
> Descriptions of Angst, Physical Violence (Choking) at the beginning

_Pain_.

Searing hot _pain_ ripped through you as you entered that wretched creature’s head; even more so than you already felt, even despite the circulation of blood and oxygen connecting your head with the rest of your body being slowly but certainly severed more and more with each passing second. The inside of that monster’s head was a cluster of swirling terror threatening to take you down with it, as you focused on all the power that was still left within you.

Loki’s voice still seemed to guide you, encourage you whenever you heard it break through the static, the mixture of screams from people outside this connection, outside your head, as well as the screams coming from the three of you.

For the creature was hurting.

In other occasions you might have cared, but your life was on the line—so with an excruciating amount of energy you crafted the thought meant to be planted in its head, a seed you hoped would quickly latch on and grow. You could already feel your head start bursting under the pressure, metaphorical as well as purely physical, while you repeated your command at the creature over and over while your connection lasted.

There was a moment of silence and you felt yourself giving up, felt your grasp on it, as well as life, slip from your fingers, as if sand, as if water, as if one of those toys filled with liquid almost everyone had owned in their childhood, slipping from your grasp no matter how you tried to hold on. The creature’s mental defenses were oddly thick, much like its skin which apparently had been thick enough for it to barely feel the knife as you had plunged it into its arm as deeply as you could—apparently not deep enough. For its clutch was still tight, scalding and draining your consciousness _fast_.

You gave another push while your legs clung to its torso for dear life, saving yourself from being held by your neck. The scream that came out of your mouth sounded almost inhuman, slightly feral, most likely due to your constricted ability to move, the lack of air to scream, your squished throat and the fact that you screeched inside as well as outside of your head.

And that was it.

The world around you started to fade, barely to a dim light in which black spots started to clearly dance around you as if laughing at you, gloating with their ability to move freely while you couldn’t. It’s grip loosened and in but a second your body collided with the stone floor, head barely saved from the collision with it as your back fell first, giving you the opportunity to shield yourself. For a moment the world came back into harsh focus as the impact send a truly unpleasant shiver up your spine, screams around you which had formerly dulled coming back to life in full force as you gasped and cried for air, writhing on the floor in an attempt to soothe yourself, to draw in enough oxygen to keep your lungs from collapsing. Your hands flew to your throat, wanting to press your fingers against it but recoiling as it hurt even worse, raw and burning and _hot_.

Through the veil of tears clouding your eyes you caught the creature, stepping back, further and further, before turning and leaving, out of the room and up the staircase. Worried shouts still echoed around you but you couldn’t reply, couldn’t even really say what they were on about, as the panicked scraping of your feet against the stone floor subsided, as the world once more began to dull before it faded with a final breath of relief escaping your chapped lips.

——————

_**Useless**_.

Utterly terrifyingly _**useless**_.

The creature had used the word to describe you, yet he couldn’t help but feel it fit him much better; enclosed in a cube limiting his seidr to stay within his cell, binding it through ancient magic. Watching your face contort into painful grimaces he had unleashed more of his abilities than he ever thought he would, tearing and twisting at the walls surrounding him in a desperate attempt to escape, to be of any help as he felt you fading, slowly but steadily in the back of his mind.

Yet it was no use, no use at all, for the creature still held you in its grasp, tightly, hand burning as it contemplated the abilities it felt radiating from you. Which is why you weren’t dead yet, why you were still able to channel your last strength to force it to let go—and all he could do was watch and hope. For screaming for help apparently hadn’t proved fruitful despite his best efforts so far, he scowled, continuing to try and claw his way out of the cell encasing him in stone and ancient magic with a vehemence he scarcely dreamed of having.

It was undeniable relief he felt when the creature had actually started to retreat, relief he felt when he yelled your name to try and gauge your condition more properly—not that he wasn’t aware of your hurt, for he felt the fire and force restricting your breathing to a quiet wheeze as if it were his own. For a fact, trying to tear the cell apart seemed to be the only possibility for him to control the adrenaline fueling the rage within him, to cope with the fear coursing through you and try to block out the overwhelming pain. Yet it was, unmistaken, panic he felt as you sank to the ground unmoving, sunk as if all life had left your fragile body.

He had never yelled for support louder than this very moment—and he had never been happier to catch sight of Fandral actually rushing towards him, blonde hair a disheveled mess on top of his head, rapier at his side shining withcrimson blood. The look in his eyes was an apprehensive one at first, slightly suspicious, before softening and immediately contorting to a look nothing short of horror at seeing your crumpled up form on the floor.

Fandral was many things, truly. Annoying was the most prominent one in Loki’s head—intrusive and far too unhealthily obsessed with the attention of women only more unkind descriptions he could think of to accurately describe the man’s seeming lack of personality.

Yet he was kind. Noble. Deep down, Loki mused, Fandral was more than just kind, and he would never, under any circumstances, let harm befall to an innocent. Only that in this case the harm had already been done, with him in direct vicinity, and he hadn’t done a thing to stop it. He could see it crossing the blond’s face, the distress at someone seemingly unfit for battle having been so severely injured, while he gently bent down to pick you up and into his arms, mindful of your throat and head. Perhaps he even knew you to be a friend of Thor, which would only add heaps and pounds of salt to the wound he thought he had inflicted upon himself.

“Fandral,” Loki spoke, and in that moment his eyes shone with nothing but honesty whether he had wanted to or not, gaze speaking paragraphs despite no words being uttered. There was a second in which both men clearly saw the pain in each other’s eyes as they were confronted by the fact that no one had done anything to prevent this from happening, a second in which they each tried to convince the other that it wasn’t their fault, but rather their own.

Loki had secretly always liked that about Fandral, far, far back into all of their childhood. When Fandral, despite seeming terribly full of himself like a bucket filled to the brim with water, yet with undeniable confidence and poise, would always look for the blame not within others, but within himself first things first. It contrasted immensely with his apparent love directed solely at himself, so it was a moment of pure beauty and innocence in which Loki was reminded of his childhood, was reminded that Fandral was still Fandral—annoying but incredibly kind and easily worried behind his facade of blatant optimism and charm.

With a silent hint of a nod Loki broke the trance they had fallen into, Fandral reciprocating the motion and dashing off and up the stairs with your limp body in his arms.

Now all he could do was wait.

——————

You awoke jerking forward in the bed you apparently found yourself in, familiar feeling of hands holding onto you to gently push you back down to rest the only thing you dared to feel at that moment. But it was there, a _burn_ , a terrible burn at your throat and you couldn’t help how your hands fought against the friendly touch, how your hands fought to claw at the skin around your throat.

“Please calm down—“ A voice, slightly desperate and oddly stiff wound its way through the mess clouding your brain, two shadows appearing in your still slightly blurred vision before you heard a door fall closed— “You are safe here, and everything is alright.”

_Thor_ , your mind screamed at you, vaguely remembering how he had said these exact words to you before with a sick flutter in your stomach, _Thor was here and everything was okay._ It was what you tried to tell yourself, but your body didn’t stop, couldn’t stop; feeling of burning hands wrapped tightly around your throat refusing to subside as you arched your back trying to restrain yourself. Your name was repeated on an endless loop in different voices, both distressed, one clearly in your head and one clearly from next to you—but you failed to quite catch on to either of them.

“Your wounds have been healed with the Healing Stones,” Thor continued to speak, even though your mind failed to understand the meaning behind his words. That you were not going to die and that the battle happened only in your head. Still, it was as if he was speaking to you in a language you didn’t speak and it didn’t help your frantic head in the slightest. And so he merely continued to hold you while you fought and trashed, writhed in his gentle but firm grasp, tossed and turned until the effort tired you out and you could only lie still.

It felt like accepting death, vaguely.

For all you felt, all you saw was the creature looming above you, decidedly picking you up by the throat another time, hands burning a bit brighter, burying themselves around your throat a bit deeper, until a snap sounded through the room and you went limp.

But you weren’t limp. You were _alive_ , a calming, friendly touch on your shoulders rather than the asphyxiating one around your neck crushing your windpipe.

You were alive, and your brain was only now catching up with that fact.

Something echoed along in your mind, something akin to a breathless laugh, a hollow sound void of actual, innocent mirth and rather drenched in genuine relief, bone deep sorrow creating a shiver up your spine.

**_[You’re alive—]_ **

You could feel the voice inside you crack, felt yourself crack as you realized that he must have thought you to be dead. It was no surprise, for mere seconds ago you had been sure of it yourself, or at least believed yourself to be eerily close to it. With a choked sob you allowed yourself to utter a laugh as well, truly hollow, as if only to lighten the mood for you were beyond comprehension of anything around you.

In a sudden reflex your hand went up to hold onto your throat.

“You are really here,” Thor spoke after a while of silence, voice oddly quiet while his gaze intently searched your face. His eyes were even more concerning; red, slightly puffy, and if you didn’t feel as if you had been run over by a truck, sight just as blurry and world just as turning, you might have actually believed that there were wet patches on his cheeks and under his eyelids. While your eyes clung to his, taking in his obvious grief in his every muscle, your hand trailed the scar on your tender skin with a harsh intake of air. There was an obvious indent, ever so slightly, were your skin took on a more leather-like quality. The fabric which had previously covered it along with your mask was shredded, cut off in places to ease the access, for healing purposes, no doubt.

Thor’s gaze fell down to glimpse at your scar as his lips pressed into a thin line, his hands clenched on his lap.

“Fandral brought you here, a friend of mine,” he explained, tightening his hands to fists, before unclenching them and rubbing them together in a light motion which immediately told you that half of his thoughts just returned to stay with you, other half so, so far away from here, “If it had not been for his quick action, you might have—“

He didn’t dare say it out loud but he also didn’t have to.

Loki had thought you to be dead, you yourself had thought to be dead. It was no wonder everyone else had had the same impression.

He turned his wandering thoughts into a cough, managing to draw your attention to him, yet failing to cover up whatever he had accidentally meant to hide which shone in his eyes, burned itself into your retinas with an intensity rivaling the sun. Thor was grieving. But not solely for you.

You watched as his lip turned more and more into a slim line and decided to not ask him, not prod around in his head; for if he had wanted you to know, he would have said so.

“They were after what resided within Jane, the Aether—an Infinity Stone,” he looked at you, trying to gauge whether you were receptive enough to understand the severity of the situation unfolding in front of you, and you forced your still slightly trembling body into submission as you tried to cling onto his words.

 _Your body was fine_ , you kept repeating in your head, _only your mind wasn’t._

“I will not let them return—I will take Jane and escape to a different realm,” he continued on and you only gazed at him quizzically, too many questions spiraling around within you which still didn’t make sense with the remnants of panic still mushing them together into a gigantic ball of terror.

“I am telling you so that you know you will still be safe here while I am gone. Upon seeing you wake I have sent someone to inform Aldís and Ragnarr—“ You perked up at hearing your friends’ names, mouth opening widely before turning into a disbelieving grin— “I also intend to break Loki out of prison and depart at once.”

You had quite possibly never shot up that quickly, hands lightly holding your shoulders be damned as you heaved yourself into a sitting position. The movement caused your head to spin, world tilting even further, swimming before your eyes as if you were nearly drowning, head barely above the surface of the water trying to smother you.

“ _What?_ ”

Thor’s soothing words went almost completely over your head as your thoughts spiraled in circles over and over and over again.

“Once the problem has been resolved, I will personally escort you back to Midgard. But until _then_ —“ He gently pushed you back down onto the bed, to prove his point— “I want you to rest. Healing Stones are certainly not going easy on the body, especially on that of a mortal. There might be some dizziness still, similar to last time only that, so far, you had less time to rest.”

He definitely had a point and you were not about to object, yet what was their plan? What were they even going to do? You didn’t know much after all, only that the force residing within Jane Foster was a destructive one and probably shouldn’t stay within someone that’s only human. But luring a bunch of powerful creatures away, to only the three of them? That seemed more than simply dangerous and your still frantic mind didn’t want to let go of your friends, of Loki, after having just been reunited with them.

Your body only offered a nod.

“I know this might not be easy for you—“ So he knew of your connection?— “Do you want to see him before we leave?”

This time the nod you gave was harsh, heart beating in your chest having rapidly picked up in speed as you almost tried to push Thor away again to rise on the bed.

“Yes.”

———

The silence after Thor had left to prepare was short-lived, for the door burst open and in came a flurry of two people sprinting over with a hurry scarcely to be seen. A bundle of blue and brown came running towards you, stopping a hair’s width from you with eyes wide and frantic.

“Aldís, Ragnarr—“ Their names left your lips in a mumble, vision starting to blur once more as they beamed at you with a happiness you hadn’t seen in a long, long time. Ragnarr was the first to break out of his trance, pulling you into a deep, tight embrace which radiated warmth and love and made your eyelashes flutter closed in relief.

They were _here_ , they were _alive_ , and you were there to see them.

Aldís joined in soon after, worried expression never quite leaving her face as she pat your head before engulfing you in a hug of her own.

“We are so glad to see you alive,” Aldís spoke, almost choked as her eyes seemed glassy with unshed tears, all the while giving you a bittersweet smile. Both of their breathing was still slightly rough, from all the running, from all the grief.

_Grief_?

“We were just informed about what had happened and came as quickly as we could,” Ragnarr said, with his arms wound tightly around you still as if he hadn’t intended to let go at all. A soft blanket was pulled up around your shoulders and you couldn’t help but feel drowned in the love you felt. You had almost given up hope of ever seeing them again and here you were, clutching your friend tightly for you feared that if you separated, you were to be cast off Asgard straight away to never return. Again.

Once Ragnarr finally broke free from his embrace, you noted the tear rolling down his cheek, quietly dripping from his chin and onto the floor. He raised his hand, furiously wiping the remaining wetness away while his smile turned into a laugh, a relieved, fully content laugh. Your eyes turned glassy along with theirs—how could you have ever tried to forget just how easily Ragnarr was to be read? How each emotion was displayed so clearly on his face for everyone to see? How could you have ever tried to forget Aldís’ worries face, ready to kindly reprimand you should you even try to stand or do anything just as foolish?

Aldís gave a slight chuckle, filling the room with sound,

“He has been thoroughly in a bad mood almost every day since you were gone.”

An exclamation, which earned her a truly light hit to the shoulder by her half-brother, making her chuckle turn into a full blown laugh with glee.

“As if you had been any better!” he retaliated, grinning.

With your happiness filling the chambers you resided in, the two of them took up a chair and sat down next to you, where you fell into pleasant conversation about just everything and anything until Thor would arrive, until Loki would be there with him to say goodbye once more.

Yet apparently your time of glee and lightheartedness in spite of the dire situation couldn’t last for long, for a mere hours into your exciting and luckily distracting discussion about a topic only Ragnarr could make sound interesting, the door burst open wide, revealing an array of guards with a scowling expression plastered on their faces. They parted immediately, only to reveal an even scarier looking Odin, a fuming King to emerge from within the cluster of men.

“Have I not _forbidden_ you to return to Asgard?”

His voice was but a growl, low and threatening as he stood in the middle of the room, staring you down with an intensity that made you shrink in your seat on the bed. Like a stop sign warning you into precaution his head gleamed red, veins popping out of his head with scary intensity.

For some reason you could tell that you weren’t the actual cause of his apparent madness, yet you knew you had to take it nonetheless.

Aldís and Ragnarr hurriedly stood in front of you, determination radiating from them, even though the latter seemed slightly more conflicted by the idea of opposing his King—a sentiment you could understand, especially regarding his position as a guard himself.

“ _What_ is the meaning of this?” the King continued to fume, end of his lance getting rammed into the floor with a deafening sound to support his incredulity, his searing anger.

“Prince Thor has asked of us to ensure their safety and we hold onto our promises,” Aldís spoke and you noted her hand brushing against Ragnarr’s arm in a reassuring gesture while he stood with his feet stiffly rooted to the floor as if frozen still and fused with the ground below.

The King looked more than just ready to argue, you noticed worriedly, you could almost feel the words burning on his lips just waiting to be spilled, etching themselves onto his tongue for every second in which he didn’t say them. You feared, waiting for him to reprimand the subjects of his kingdom, which he most likely declared to obey his every command—especially someone that is a guard.

But contrary to everyone’s belief he swallowed the remark, despite reluctantly so, the name Thor no doubt circulating around his head like crazy; and with that you feared how the poor prince was now going to be pulled into all of this and face the madness in your stead.

What the King let out instead, was a growl, low, almost animalistic.

“Once more, to _clarify_ —“ he took a deep breath through clenched teeth and a clenched jaw, taking a step closer and raising his head with something akin to royal grace which only made him look menacing instead— “I will tolerate the _mortal’s_ presence until my son returns. Afterwards the _mortal_ is to leave and never return, lest they will be executed as an example. _Understood_?”

The three of you nodded in automatic response, eyes not straying from the King’s form as if fearing he might change his mind and murder you right then and there.

“ _Good_. And should you _ever_ dare defy my orders again, I shall lock you in the dungeons for the rest of your days,” he spoke, lance thundering against the marble floor for another time before he turned around and left, crowd of guards encapsulating him once more as the doors fell closed behind them like thunder rolling in the distance.

You couldn’t believe your friends stood up for you against their King, looking up at them with deep, honest gratitude while in the back of your head you felt guilty for now Thor now had to deal with this problem.

———

And there he was.

Thor entered the room first, smile widening slightly to shadow his grief as he caught side of the three of you sitting, smiling and laughing with toothy grins adorning your faces. Barely a second later Loki trudged in behind him, and your previous smile fell away in awe. Awe and palpable concern.

For the man standing before you seemed a mere shadow of himself, eyes practically unfocused, hair still slightly disheveled and clothes not nearly as ironed out and smooth as it usually seemed to be the case—even though something told you that he had looked much worse mere minutes ago. His eyes regained a slight glint once they fell on you, lips twitching up into as smile as you almost instinctually scrambled to get out of the bed you were still resting on.

Before you could do so he was already at your side,

“Easy now,” he spoke, and you needed no abilities to feel the sorrow radiating even from behind his sincere smile, “Everything is okay.”

You laughed—for many reasons you assumed—because he was here, without any shackles to bind him and weigh him down, because he was alive, you were alive and because Thor had said the very same to you not so long ago.

Brothers indeed.

Something within you screamed to touch him, to make sure that all of this was indeed real, that all of this was indeed happening, and not merely a fever dream your dying mind had conjured to ease your passing. You almost visibly shuddered at the thought, almost forgetting that Loki felt it all, heard it all, before seeing his facade give away to the sorrow that had been looming behind so directly beneath his eyelids, hidden behind his poise and grace while he walked, even though something about him tried to say; plucked fresh from the sewer.

Sorrow. Grief.

Because his mother died.

You heard a sharp intake of air echo through the room, the only sound within making it appear louder than it had most likely been. And it took you a couple of seconds to realize that it had come from you.

Frigga—the Queen, the person that had helped you, accepted you and treated you well despite her husband embodying the complete and utter opposite from her, she, who was shining as brightly and warmly as the sun—was _dead_.

The understanding dawning on you made everyone else set into motion as well, knowing of your connection and seeing the recognition in your expression, yet no one made a move to explain, to speak about it. For it had happened, nothing could possibly change it, but with the grief still struck deeply into the hearts of the people around you they couldn’t help but try and deny it by choosing to postpone their mourning to a later date. Perhaps to after all of this was over, to after the creature that had killed the Queen, apparently the same that had attacked you, was ridden of the universe and whatever lay beyond.

Careful beyond words, light as a feather, Loki placed his hand on your arm. His expression seemed almost stony, but his facade to protect himself from the world around him was useless against you as you felt the rage, the misery within him, fighting to devour him whole, rampaging through his head like a maniac. With an even gentler movement you placed your own hand above his, gifting warmth to his cold skin, warmth to his clouded mind with an empathetic smile carrying a promise. A promise of trust and hope.

———

“It is time,” Thor spoke the words with nothing but sadness dripping from his words even despite his resolute and determined posture. With a soft pat of your arm Loki rose to his feet, taking a step back to gaze at you with a faraway expression fogging his eyes.

In a swift and unexpected movement he motioned with his hands; little strings of nothing short of magic appearing around them until they formed a little membrane he could reach through—and did. Pulling his hand out of the little, blue portal, a book came with it, oddly and terribly familiar, gold glistening in the stray light of the fire around you as he held it out for you to take. With a second of surprised hesitation you took it out of his grasp, eyes glancing from the book to him and back as you felt the weight reside in your hands almost unnaturally heavy so.

As he took a step back you mouth awakened from its trance.

“Be careful,” you spoke, a phrase so mundane but so very important as you watched him walk up to Thor, both giving you an almost sad smile before they left through the door, letting them fall behind you closed.

———

Aldís and Ragnarr only reluctantly left your side mere minutes after Thor’s and Loki’s departure, even though it was the both of them that had wanted you to rest. Like Thor had mentioned before, the Healing Stones had been given to you while you had been unconscious and on the brink of death, just barely pulling you out of its dark and cold clutches before it was too late. They were still keeping your body unusually docile and calm, slightly clouding your mind and, at times, tilting the word at an odd angle before you realized that you had merely been dozing off from exhaustion.

Still, no matter how exhausted you had been, the curiosity of the book, familiar book you had noticed since first arriving on Asgard a year ago, kept you awake and from blissful darkness and sleep. Which is precisely why you now, hands oddly shaking, opened the book and began to read.

Read, and read, eyes widening and widening, barely making it to the next couple of pages before halting.

You closed the book with a loud snap tearing through the air, forcing yourself to slightly trembling knees and pushing yourself to rush out of the room, out of the palace, pushing yourself to follow Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay! Apparently I managed to get into a Writer’s block - I mean after continuously working on this Fanfiction ever since November I must say I’m not overly surprised...
> 
> But I’ll not abandon this, don’t worry!  
> It just might at times take me a day more to get the words out the way I want them to :)
> 
> Btw I decided to give Fandral a personality. You’re welcome.  
> (I’m kidding)
> 
> Hope you’re all well!


	26. Going Down, Down Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You find Loki.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> —Trigger Warning!—
> 
> Descriptions of Angst, Blood; Apparent Death, Mentions of Suicide

Ridiculous.

You sprinted through the corridors with an undeniable lack of poise and grace the royal family might have laughed at you for, struggling to not run against the next column that was _totally_ standing _directly_ in your way and not quite some space aside. Each step appeared calculated, difficult as you felt the side effects from the medicine you had been provided with, felt the side effects of missing death by an hair’s width.

_Ridiculous_.

The book, tiny enough to fit into pockets of regular space, was now tucked into one of those hanging from the belt around your waist after you had discarded whatever little weapons were left inside. All the while your steps sounded without any rhythm as you stumbled to and fro through the corridors, trying to catch up with the friends you had left to solve some sort of galactic problem no one assembled deemed you to be fit enough to participate in. Your physical exhaustion weakened your body greatly, but your mind was still a mess as well—yet you did all you could to suppress whatever might bleed through to Loki as it scrambled around in your head.

_Infinity Stones_ , yes. Nothing you were completely unfamiliar with by now, even though no topic you wanted to be familiar with either. The book was about the abilities and proper usage of the very stones which the entire universe was made out of, nothing _too_ shocking after everything you had seen and heard from Thor and Loki. But what the book had actually been all this time was clear now you had seen it, had seen the handwriting in the corners, between the lines, smeared over words to cross them out and replace them in a hurried burst of ideas. It was clear once you had seen the writing you shouldn’t be able to read for it was a language you didn’t speak, yet could read anyways as if it had been you who had written these thoughts down in the first place.

The book functioned as Loki’s diary.

It could have sounded weird, a potentially funny thing to joke about, for the fact that someone who was going to, and already _had_ lived for over a millennium feeling the need to write down his daily routine seemed a joke at best. Yet what he had written down was far from being anything short of mundane.

The thoughts, the words, the dreams were scribbled all along the pages. The dreams, the _memories_ of the titan, of Thanos. Of Loki being in his services after having been mind controlled to do so, of Loki fighting before he even got into this mess, of him fighting against what appeared to be more than just a decent amount of torture, and with no little effort you forced yourself to keep the bile down in your still hurting throat. All these things, snippets of situations that had no doubt come to haunt his mind after you had retrieved the initial memories that he had lost, after you had erased the blockade keeping his other traumatic remedies at bay.

All of this was the price he had to pay to remember who he had once been.

You stumbled through the corridors shaking your head as you went, which _honestly_ did not help with your already apparent lack of balance and general strength, yet trying to keep yourself from falling _did_ shake the thoughts circulating in your head. You were going to get to Loki, you were going to get to him in time to keep him from whatever he was planning to do, and you were going to ask him all you wanted to know.

Your steps sounding against marble could not rule out the heartbeat ringing in your ears as you took in the wreckage surrounding you, minding the broken pieces of architecture littering the floors while you scrambled through the hallways. There was so much destruction, in some places gleaming crimson painting the walls and floor and debris a picture of loss, of despair. Few people strewn about barely spared you a glance, too busy salvaging the torn and broken bodies of their fellow comrades, and should they decide to indeed give you even the tiniest glimpse of attention, you dimmed their suspicion to a spark before it could grow out of control.

The tug you felt in the far, far back of your mind seemed far, _far_ away, and as you followed the marble hallway to a gigantic, ripped hole in the wall you realized that the other half of your soul was beyond the city, beyond the masses of water and a weak trail lead your mind to somewhere in between heaps of rocks to a gap between the mountains. Which meant you needed a _space ship_.

You bit your lip as you realized that all of this could have been at least a bit easier, if you had invested learning your ability of flight while you were younger, much younger. As it was, it felt slightly akin to learning a new language—the younger you were, the easier it seemed to be, while the older you got, the more challenges you faced to make space for it in your head. You had neglected training your ability like a muscle you had only noticed now and needed to rely on, realizing it wouldn’t get you far. Having been in a coma for a year and now being forced into a sprint—it just _didn’t_ work.

Everything surrounding flying had always seen so uncertain, so doubtful. Yes, it had saved you a couple of times out of pure instinct, but whenever you wanted to use it yourself, actively thinking about how you were about to try and _fly_ —it failed you and you had more than once broken an arm or a leg on the occasion, until you decided to never ever try again.

Something you regretted now, truly.

So you were in need of a ship you couldn’t fly either, but _needed_ to use in order to get where you had to go. There was a part within you trying to fight your already blossoming decision to use one of the many guards surrounding you, wallowing in their grief amongst crimson roses; grief, which was only visible to you, for their faces remained stoic and strong. But the tug inside your chest only continued like a string getting pulled taut, tension keeping you on edge and making you feel as if on the bring of snapping as it desired to push you onwards, further and further out to the sea. An apology arose from within you as you closed your eyes and grabbed one of the many men’s attention, trying to suppress the words echoing in Loki’s handwriting and Loki’s voice around your head.

“ _Goodbye Little One_ ”

———

It had been surprisingly easy, and you didn’t even want to think about how much you had probably used your mind manipulation in the last year alone to get to the level of skill you were at now. If you hadn’t been completely sure that this _did_ feel sort of like an emergency to you, you would have been frightened by the possibilities this opened up for you—or rather, opened up for someone pure evil of heart with the same batch of powers you carried.

As it was, you couldn’t help but repeat how sorry you were in your head as you made the stranger lead you through the hallways, mindful of other people’s attention as he lead you into a room filled to the brink with dusty debris, and a couple of ships that seemed to still be functioning. The other half of space ships was either gone or destroyed, caught by rubble of falling architecture that had squished them from above and created the dust stinging in your lungs as you took a deep breath. The sun cast an ominous glow onto the destruction, and you felt almost mesmerized by the golden light reflecting off various shards of glass littering the floor, before you finally followed the man into one of the ships.

You bit your lip as it started to levitate and could but hope that everyone else was still too busy with the disappearance of the princes and the salvaging of the dead to notice a single flying object not so stealthily making its way out in a flurry of gold and white.

Not even the gentle breeze of saltwater from afar could calm your raging nerves as you could feel the stress of battle bleed through to you even though it seemed that Loki had the same idea of cutting you off as you were currently doing to him. That _certainly_ wasn’t good news.

You glided over the city, marveling in horror over its demolition; statues cleanly severed with debris still tumbling from it and down to the roads below, a couple of buildings blown up and clearly in flames, smoke rising from half the entire planet, while the sun shone as brightly as it had always done before, as if trying to make the entire situation seem absolutely ordinary with its warm, natural glow. The water soon came into view and you braced yourself as the connection tore through you stronger and stronger with every seconds your destination came closer and closer. In the distance you could make out the gap in the mountain range, eyes lead by your mind only—for you could have never possibly found it otherwise—as you made the man in your mental clutch slow the ship down so you could evaluate the situation.

You were nearly a breath away from the gap, wondering what exactly you were staring at as Loki felt so far away yet still, when suddenly a surge of unfathomable pain rang through you and made you topple to the floor and to your knees. Your lip started bleeding as you bit down on it hard, droplet of crimson dripping into your mouth and spreading its metallic taste over your tongue as you stumbled to your feet once more, mind growing blank.

Something was wrong, oh so very wrong.

On instinct you grabbed the lever and pushed it forward, setting the ship into immediate motion as you had watched the man standing dazed next to you do it before, speeding inhumanly fast directly towards the gap in the mountains. The sound of metal scraping against the edges of stone was numb to your ears as you could only feel the pain spread in your stomach, further and further, when suddenly you felt yourself getting swallowed up by nothingness, before emerging in a completely different surrounding.

Everything around you was dark and green, no water left behind and instead replaced by rocks and sand, cliffs and dirt as you jerked back to make the guard take control over the ship once more, world painted in loneliness and solitude, a black ship floating off very far into the distance. You stumbled back and to the floor, medicine and pain mixing together and making your head swim more than before while your hands desperately tried to clutch onto it to make it stop. The speck of darkness, the floating object far away was starting to disappear, leaving the atmosphere and you could do nothing but watch in confusion and anticipation as you wondered, whether you should try and hold on to suppressing your connection as much as you could or whether you should open up to call for him.

Something within you screamed to keep holding, so you merely closed your eyes and ordered the guard to hurry towards wherever you told him to.

——————

Maybe he shouldn’t have done it.

Maybe he shouldn’t have tried to actively play the hero for once in his life—but he couldn’t help himself. His brother had shown so much faith in him, so much more than he deserved that it was merely an instinctive movement to shove the sword cleanly through that wretched creature’s chest seconds before it could have harmed Thor. In every other situation he might have been better off, analyzing the situation with his mind rather than acting purely based on feelings, and he couldn’t help but writhe on the ground in partial rage as he condemned having emotions.

For his brother had actually been the lesser of his worries as he buried the blade in the monster’s body, as he pushed it into the thick skin, hearing it crack beneath the force of his blow as the sword pressed through and into the muscles or whatever it might have been holding it together. The **_rage_** he had felt was undeniable, even though it scarcely showed on his face. After all this time of being alive, all this time of _**hurt**_ and _**disappointment**_ he had learned to hide the most ugly of feelings radiating from his core, dimming them to a spark and letting them rot as if they had never even been there.

But the _**rage**_ had been there, clearly.

For that monster had nearly murdered _**you**_ , the other half of his soul, and had murdered his _**mother**_. Two of the few people in his life he had ever deemed trustworthy enough to let beyond his facade of sarcasm and coldness, of apathy and ignorance. Two of the few people that had ever _**bothered**_ to even know him beyond what he showed the outside world, even though one of them had technically merely been forced by their unusual predicament.

But it was not what he wanted to think about as he took what felt to be his last few breaths. The creature was dead now, he had made sure of it as he had used one of its own bombs to evaporate it into nothingness right after the monster resembling death itself had turned around and stabbed him with the very same blade he had initially struck it with. He closed his eyes as he took a shaky breath, hands fumbling with the wound, with the glowing red soaking his clothes and running down, down, down his skin and onto the dusty, dirty ground.

Thor was by his side but he would be leaving soon, he _**wanted**_ him to leave soon—they had important matters to intend to and he had just seen his dead mother; he didn’t need to add a dead brother onto his list. _**Again**_. Barely two years ago he had not bothered with the thought of dying, had even greeted it with open arms as he had let go of the spear, of his brother’s hold, silently hoping for death’s harsh, cold claws digging into his body and dragging him to wherever he was to reside after breathing his last and final breath.

Where would he go now that this was over?

Valhalla perhaps? He died in battle after all.

Hel maybe? He was sure that there were quite some people that would rather see him descend into the depths of despair during his afterlife than giving him any sort of credit for the good deeds he had committed. Who knows how all these realms were even connected—he would just have to close his eyes and find out.

Thor’s and Jane’s steps shuffling through the dry dust and dirt had just faded in the distance, leaving him to be left alone with his thoughts after he had pretended to have already died, leaving him to wallow in solitude until darkness would inevitably claim him. Would it be selfish to stop suppressing the connection to you just so that he could say his goodbyes?

A hollow, dry chuckle eased out of his lips which soon turned into a cough, blood spluttering out of his mouth and dripping down the side of his face as he laid on his back, hands having moved to grab onto his wound fiercely again in a desperate attempt to delay the inevitable.

Technically he had already said his goodbyes, he knew that. Even though he hadn’t necessarily planned on dying, he had indeed planned to not ever return, or perhaps, not return to Asgard as himself. For that wretched creature was still out there somewhere, looking to claim him back as a marionette—he could feel it, could feel the titan’s wrath for having managed to, albeit involuntarily, escape his physical and mental grasp, and he couldn’t risk falling back into his hands, couldn’t risk being forced to wait for him locked in a cage buried deep underground. He only hoped that you had found the words written down in the book he had given you, would maybe even understand why he had to leave after taking a look at the very book you had eyed since first setting foot into the dungeons below; back when the two of you had done nothing but exchanged snarky remarks, you had asked nothing but questions and he had given nothing but death threats. He found himself already missing your honesty whenever curiosity had won over him and led him to ask something himself, miss the pleasant feeling blooming in his stomach upon knowing you told the truth; a stark contrast to whenever the world presented him with yet one more lie.

Another surge forced his heels to dig into the ground as he decided to leave it at that.

Back two years ago, he had indeed not cared about dying. But now he felt as if he had so much to lose.

——————

You unceremoniously fell out of the ship once you had forced it to land, knees colliding with the dried soil below, stones digging through your clothes and into your skin. He was fading, he was fading and only now you could see why. Despite your legs feeling like fresh jelly you jerked into a standing position, breaking out into a wobbly sprint that almost had you fall to the ground face first before you came to a halt at his side, sinking to the floor without any spirit left within you.

“Loki...?”

The word was barely a croak, but something in him stirred for a second before his eyes blinked open with sluggish movements. You almost couldn’t hear the way he slurred your name past pain and blood dropping from his mouth in a deep, dark red, own eyes wide and frantic as your hands moved to the wound in his stomach, desperate to stop the bleeding. His own hands found their way on top of yours, blood smearing against your skin; warm, hot, _burning_ even though his skin was deathly cold.

“I’m sorry—“ he spoke, words slurred together, a cough interrupting his speech and sending more crimson spilling down his face as he strained to look at you with half-closed eyes.

“ _Don’t_ —“ You tried, choking on a sob clogging your throat feeling like the blood clogging his— “Don’t do this, don’t say this.”

This couldn’t be happening, this wasn’t allowed to happen. You could live with knowing that he was alive, even though you would inevitably be separated for the rest of your lives. You could live with the aching, hollow feeling inside your chest telling you that the other half of your soul was living his life, far, far away from you. You could live with the grief you would undeniably feel every single day, following you even as you tried to forget, knowing that you would have to leave him behind for the second time and knowing that you could never, _ever_ forget, no matter how much you tried.

You could _not_ live with him dying, could _not_ live with him apologizing for whatnot as he deliriously died in your arms. You could not live with it, whether that might me metaphorical, or physical—for you were not aware of how much your souls were bound to one another, unsure whether you would die along with him and finding that it was the least of your current worries. In your mess of thoughts clogging your sensations like a dirty drain you didn’t even feel how you grew weaker with every single second dripping away like time on a clock.

“I’m....sorry—this had to happen...”

“Loki,” you interjected past the tears spilling from your eyes blurring your sight, hands pressing a little stronger onto his wound, still desperately trying to keep his blood from leaving him, leaving him to grow paler with each broken breath, “Stop. Loki—“ A sob escaped your throat through clenched teeth, chattering teeth in the face of death— “Don’t apologize.”

You only caught the faintest hint of a smile on his face.

“I’m sorry for how I’ve....treated you...and—“

The words passed his lips with obvious strain, his hands giving yours a weak squeeze just as his eyes closed, final thoughts swirling inside of your head as he accidentally let go of his hold on the connection, let go as death attempted to claim him and you couldn’t help the scream tearing through your lungs.

_**[Thank you.]** _

His voice, broken and hoarse from exhaustion and lack of oxygen was the last thing you heard; the blood flowing from his wound, running down your fingers coloring the ground a bright red the last thing you smelt; his face, slightly gray and terrifyingly lifeless the last thing you saw; the cold skin of his hands sliding from yours, the texture of his clothes beneath your clutch the last thing you felt; the salt staining your lips as the tears didn’t stop spilling from your puffy, reddened eyes the last thing you tasted—

Your eyes fell closed as you collapsed beside him.

——————

Words akin to garbled nonsense filled the silence that had spread across the planet once its last, current inhabitants had collapsed motionless in the dirt. The guard had long since scurried off; your last command having lead him back to his ship and forced him to retreat through the mountain range you had initially come from, wanting to at least show him the way back to Asgard before you felt your body give in to the call for apparent death.

Instead of guards, there were two creatures standing above the two, huddled figures on the ground. Shallow breathing came from the both of them, appearing distressed but otherwise peacefully asleep and the two creatures looming above them casting suffocating shadows in their wake could only give a satisfied grin as they shuffled through one of their many bags hanging across their shoulders to retrieve blindfolds and shackles, fixing them around the limp bodies in no time. One of the two, the one with red skin much like the blood which was still sticky on the floor and three horns protruding from his head, crouched next to the bodies and pulled up the shirt from the Prince, inspecting the skin for whatever might have left behind such amounts of blood before motioning to the other with a frown and shake of his head—for there was _nothing_. His friend, built more bulky than the first and with skin as monochrome and grey as the sky on cloudy days gave a nod back, hoisting both of them up from the ground and onto its shoulders, dragging them into the makeshift space ship they had arrived with.

“ _These two will give us a nice price on the market._ ”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did anybody catch the reference? If you can call it that, that is—  
> (//cough ‘Thank You’ //cough)
> 
> So, for anyone who actually reads these notes:
> 
> Next chapter is going to be VERY different. Because, even though I haven’t exactly retold the movies so far, I really wanted to be a bit more creative and ENTER rest of the universe (+ Guardians another chapter in the future??)
> 
> Hope you’re still willing to ride along this road with me that is this Fanfiction which has been going on for longer than any project of mine ever had before!
> 
> Stay safe out there!


	27. Rust, Dirt and Dust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Escaping some not so well organized captors to an unknown place.

A dull, thumping sound echoed heavily within your chest and it was only then that realization hit you—that you were still _alive_. The vigor in which the muscle was steadily hammering against your rib cage only picked up once you opened your eyes to find no change in your surroundings whatsoever; finding nothing but black.

The suffocating, seeping and inky darkness managed to completely block your ability to see, forcing you to focus all the more on your remaining senses, and with a start your attention was quickly pulled to how your wrists itched and burned, prompting you to try and move them only to find their movements suspiciously restricted. With slightly accelerated efforts to struggle against seeming restraints you found yourself to be effectively tied up, bundled up like a package waiting for transport—which might just be _exactly_ what you were. Upon hearing voices growing louder, drawing closer to you, you fought hard not to panic despite unmistakable amounts of adrenaline rushing through your veins and beginning to momentarily sharpen your senses even further under the pressure of keeping your newly rediscovered life.

A creaking shift of metal indicating a rather heavy person stepping into the room made you halt your already shallow breathing, straining to listen to voices speaking in languages unknown to you and filling your brain, barely audible over the sound of the organ hurriedly beating away in your chest. The noises sounded like nothing but garbled, throaty nonsense—as if one was gurgling with salt water on a husky throat—yet these creatures appeared to be communicating with each other well enough, you noted, as you started to discern different pitches in their speech.

You tried to drown them out, _desperately_ , clinging onto believing that you’d perhaps rather not know what they were saying while your mind attempted to remember what had even brought you into whatever situation you were currently stuck in. And then it hit you like a truck in the middle of an empty road, a lightning bolt in the middle of an empty field—unexpected and sudden, but fatal in its course.

_Loki_.

———————

He sprung to life with a breath, long and drawled out as he sucked the air into his lungs through his gaping mouth, hands involuntarily moving to grasp the spot of skin he recalled he had been struck through, the spot where the blade had entered his skin, tore apart his muscles; the spot where the blade had ended his life.

Only that it **_hadn’t_** , now had it?

The darkness surrounding him could very well make him believe that to indeed be the case, if it weren’t for his wrists burning, his head throbbing—even though the initial wound in his stomach did not.

A heavy linen sack was resting over his face, blocking his sight—he could feel it clearly now, the scratchy material brushing against his nose and lip as he took another desperate breath, all the while trying to collect his bearings, remember what happened and not trying to lose his cool over the surprising fact that he was still alive.

He _**had**_ died, he was sure if it. He had _**felt**_ death’s cold claws dragging him away, he was sure of it. Only that it somehow, _**apparently**_ , had not worked.

With a yank of his hands he found them to be shackled together and against the wall, with not enough chain length to reach up and discard the bag closed tightly over his head. As soon as his breathing had calmed, as soon as the blood stopped rushing through his veins in a pointless race to his still beating heart, he could finally focus on the blurry noise, hazy piece of static cutting through his head, could finally focus enough to know that it wasn’t static, but a _**voice**_.

_**Your**_ voice.

It stuck out in the empty void of his mind like a sore thumb, cutting through the cotton clouding his head every now and then with words he could barely make out, could barely understand as he scrambled to understand everything himself.

How much time had passed? Having possibly died and fallen unconscious tied up in an unfamiliar place with your sight cut off really messed with one’s perception of time and space. There were many, many questions he would have liked to have answered, but first he had to make his escape. _**Somehow**_.

Yet when he tried to dip into his seidr, tried to pull onto the very strings forming reality around him he found that he couldn’t—and the searing pain emanating from his wrists, the draining sensation as if having his very own life force getting sucked out of his body upon trying quickly made him realize why that was the case. Biting on his lip to swallow a curse he let his head fall back against the wall behind him, sigh dragging through his clenched teeth.

Ancient shackles bound him to the walls, shackles with runes scarcely seen nor felt before, that he had no energy to try and decipher through their feel alone kept him from reaching out to use his seidr. He was only relieved to feel that they weren’t quite as secure as they could have been, allowing him to, with some time, possibly find the right movement of power surging through him to break them apart—and it was then that realization hit him deeply once more.

These people had, to everyone’s surprise and his very luck, _**no**_ idea who they were dealing with.

Least he would have long since been back in Thanos’ hands.

——————

Your name weakly echoed through your connection back to you and you couldn’t help the wisp of air leaving your chest and pulling the heavy weight resting on it down with its blow. He was alive, actually _alive_ , somewhere here; wherever here was. The breath eased into a quiet, desperate, but no less honest laugh bleeding from your lips, even as the bag was pulled from your head, as blinding light entered your vision and momentarily forced you to clamp your eyes shut, bright spots dancing in the darkness behind your eyelids to the music of your heart, the beat of your pulse, thrumming steadily against your skin.

You clung to the knowledge that Loki was alive even as the short blindness subsided and a red hand came into view, crimson like the blood you had just seen seep out of Loki’s body, crimson grabbing ahold of your chin, turning your face left and right with narrowed, blackened eyes watching you intently.

There was a scream just waiting to be pressed out of your halting lungs, watching the creature— _creatures_ —standing in the room, the one with red skin and black eyes and foul breath and baggy clothes covering the lower part of his body prodding your throat, inspecting your wound. The burn wound you had gotten from just another encounter with just another creature you had no quarrel with, that decided to have a quarrel with you nonetheless.

_**[How are—? —Happening?]** _

Loki’s voice broke off at times, perhaps due to whatever had brought you into this situation in the first place, perhaps due to simple exhaustion or distance, or perhaps due to your shared near death experience combined with all the other options; yet you clung to it like an anchor keeping you grounded, a rock you could hold onto as you were drowning in unfamiliar faces and unfamiliar voices and unfamiliar languages. The grey creature in the back with a horn poking from their forehead only helped in setting you back to when that monster back in the dungeons had held you in a chokehold, had squished your windpipe and burned your throat.

Your eyes narrowed as your heart sped up, almost blocking out Loki’s comforting voice and words in a sea of uncertainty as you felt being presented with the strongest fight or flight response you had ever encountered. Memories replayed in your head while the creatures took notes, possibilities played out while your eyes zoned out on the unfamiliar writing appearing on a sheet of paper in front of you as the creature jotted it down.

_**[I can possibly escape—need—time]** _

It was all the confirmation your mind needed as your body was set to autopilot.

Focusing your energy, your thoughts, you crept your way into the stranger’s head. You might not understand whatever language they were talking in, but inside someone’s head it was all motion, all impulse, all instinct; no voice necessary to pull the lever to create your very own marionette. And so you forced the crimson one to still, forced it to pull a key dangling from a loose belt around its body, forced it to move over and open your shackles, while the rest of its companions watched dumbfounded, eyes bulging in their skull.

At times you felt a sharp stab ringing through your head and reminded yourself that you had barely escaped death, had had no time to properly collect yourself from your previous display of abilities regarding the guard you had abducted, and forced yourself to ignore the ongoing taste of iron on your tongue.

At times you also felt like some kind of superhero— _supervillain_ —taking other’s free will and making them your very own—

_**[Stop—]** _

You stopped that thought.

Letting your eyes warily trail the place, you caught sight of a clutter of things, familiar looking objects. Next to the light glint of a knife that was unmistakably yours, a golden cover reflected glowing lights from a couple of buttons blinking harshly between the creatures waiting to watch everything unfold with confused expressions, exchanging gurgled words in agitated chats. With a pull you forced yourself to stand, swaying a bit on your feet before tumbling to the harsh, rusty and brown metal ground, coldness of the iron sending a shiver up your spine as your knees collided with the floor. Another rush of energy tugged you up, hesitant steps bringing you to the objects sprawled on a table in the corner of the room. Rust was no doubt climbing up every part of this ship, sneaking its way into cracks like ivy into walls, veins through your arm. Your belt had been placed right next to it and you collected what was rightfully yours with still trembling hands, head refusing to accept whatever was going on as real even though you knew it was.

Stale air forced itself through your teeth as you pulled yourself together, letting the creature lead you through the place, all the way to the abducted and probably half dead Prince, if whatever you had last seen was indeed correct. While you were busy ignoring something wet and warm slowly dripping down your chin, Loki’s voice continued to sound in your mind, giving you the peace necessary to pull through the jab in your head even though he sounded strained as he apparently fought against his shackles.

_[I’ll be there soon.]_

Was what you believed. But in your dizziness you had forgotten that the crimson creature leading you wasn’t the only one present; forgot, that there had been at least two more watching their friend help you escape and the alarm that suddenly started to blare, twist and tear at your cottoned hearing sent you into an unprecedented frenzy. Your mouth started to splutter in shock, hand moving to wipe away what you now found was blood as you froze like a dear in the headlights. Unfocused eyes found their way back to the creature collecting itself, shaking themselves from the hold you had claimed, turning slowly to meet you, staring, standing frozen in shock.

Just as a red hand had reached out to you with almost palpable murderous intent, you had forced your mind to work around the barrier, the wall of pain which had erected itself to protect you from further damage of overexerting your abilities. It never ended well, it never had and it never will.

Still, you forced you body to continue, forced the creature to continue and watched it halt in front of a door, watched, as it fumbled with the keys in hand until the right one was found and shoved into a lock, turned with a click, and the heavy, metallic door got pushed with a little bit of force. Immediately you sacked, adrenaline retreating as you knew, as you _felt_ you had found him.

There was a pull on your wrist as soon as the door had opened, a tug forcing you behind a body clad in black and green leather, the sound of a knife being pulled from god knows where and the following slash and gurgle of a body as it crumpled to the floor—surprise momentarily suppressing your wonder over his surprisingly good health. He turned, blazing eyes softening as they met yours, drenched in concern much like the words flowing from within him and basking your mind in worry. Yet they narrowed as they moved to your lip; his jaw clenched as he raised his hand in what appeared to be a movement purely instinctual, merely intuitive as his thumb moved to wipe against the corner of your lip. You could feel the cold radiating from his skin as always, felt your own warmth leaving your body to make up for the lack of his before he pulled away again—narrowed eyes darting between his thumb drenched in crimson and your own eyes.

“You have done enough.”

With that his hand once more moved to get ahold of your wrist, pulling you along as his right hand fiercely clutched onto the knife in his hold, knuckles turning white in silent rage.

You were _abducted_. You had been _imprisoned_. Abducted and imprisoned by weird creatures, thrown into an unfamiliar place, shackled, after only barely having escaped death itself.

They would have _sold_ you—you realized that now as Loki pulled you through the space ship, as your brain continued to catch up bit by piece with everything happening around you— _sold_ you; which is why they had been taking notes, prodding your skin and taking in your condition.

They were _slave traders_.

And so the remorse you felt while Loki cut through one after the other crossing your path was miniscule at best, almost non existent as you fell into step with the Prince who was dragging you through broken down corridors, up and down a couple of steps. Your mind zoned out while he threatened people, stumbling in his rush at a pull, a _draining_ sensation from within him, and you barely caught that the ship was low in fuel—in its state it honestly was a surprise it still worked either way—until light _finally_ shone on your skin in colorful beams, until heat crept up your legs from the warm ground below.

Your name seemed to have been going on, over and over like a broken record playing underwater only now being salvaged, only now breaking through the tense surface of masses of water with surprising intensity. With a start your hands moved to hold onto Loki’s wrists as you noticed that he was lightly shaking your shoulders in an attempt to rouse you from whatever trance you were in. In quick, erratic movements your eyes slowly started to accept the input of the outside world, head shifting to access the situation as you found yourself in what appeared to be a little secluded space in nature, soil soggy beneath your shoes, burly, brown trees looking not too healthy among the heat, and futuristic, metallic buildings looming far in the distance, towering, almost looming threateningly over you. The sky above you was dotted by stars, light illuminating the path before you artificial by the origin of the buildings in the distance, shining brightly through the gaps of broken trees.

“We need to leave,” Loki spoke as soon as he noticed that you would understand, voice lightly muffled still with his eyebrows drawn together, “ _ **Now**_.”

Throwing a glance behind you just as he grabbed ahold of your wrist once more and firmly pulled you along, you watched the ship fade away in the distance, getting swallowed up in light fog. Rusty browns scarcely reflected a bit of light shining from around as you noticed just how broken down it was—had it not been such a dire situation leaving you troubled to process even just the tiniest bit of information, you may as well have been even more panicked about this whole ordeal. Leaves rustled beneath your feet as you pushed on, glancing up and catching a look of unfamiliar nervousness residing on Loki’s usually carefully crafted facial expressions, which wasn’t very comforting. Your heels dug into the dirty ground as you refused to continue, mind writhing in newfound information that didn’t add up, as it was still stuck trying to understand what had happened, feverishly running laps around your brain refusing to still. Loki’s brain meanwhile, seemed to have a much easier time in doing so, thoughts racing wild but with startling purpose it made it even harder for you to grab ahold of your own uncertainties as his were loud, despite being astonishingly well-arranged.

His lips pressed into a tight line as he narrowed his eyes, coming to a halt along with you. Green eyes squinted at you, regarding you with confusion and an unmistaken need to hurry, to leave this godforsaken place behind.

“Other planets are not necessarily hospitable in regards to me—not often to humans either,” he explained, seeming to fumble for a second before an idea formed behind his eyes, still busy sharply analyzing you, “Do you trust me?”

It was an intuitive move, as everything seemed to have been ever since you had met him in that Stark Tower back in New York. Not that you hadn’t been a terribly instinctive person even before this entire ordeal, but the connection binding you seemed to have only sharpened that aspect of your being.

So you gave him a nod which hadn’t even been necessary as he had read your affirmation through your bond. There was no hesitation.

He gave one right back as if approving of your decision, before making a tiny, subtle movement with his hand, dousing you in a feeling, a sensation akin to being basked in fresh light—and when it had disappeared you found Loki gone; and a living being, most likely a woman standing in front of you instead, skin a bright yellow, hair a cherry red cascading down their back. You gaped, wrenching your wrist out of their grasp, before putting your hand in front of your mouth, recoiling when you noticed it a soft red. The being in front of you chuckled, voice higher but no less unfamiliar as you couldn’t help but blink excessively, your mind already knowing who was standing in front of you, crossing their arms.

“ _Loki_...?” you said it out loud, if only to make sure that you weren’t completely turning insane. Of course you knew him to have abilities far beyond what you thought possible, but to what extent you had never known. The person gave a nod confirming them to be the Dark Prince and you immediately relaxed, muscles loosing their tension, shoulders slacking.

“It is a disguise,” he explained as if it was necessary, “It will give us more time on this planet to craft a plan for our return, shielding us from people who might be on the lookout for us.”

And as such he no doubt meant everyone who was already after him, as well as whoever might be ready to take revenge for what you had done with the slave traders. You could only add another nod turning to a cough, throat still dry from the unexpected turn of events and the excessive use of your abilities, compliantly following behind him this time as he led you through twisting parts strewn through a little, broken forest.

After a trek which couldn’t have taken any longer than a couple of minutes you reached the edge of a hill, red soil beneath your feet as you overlooked a city looming below. The buildings you had detected before seemed only taller, much more intimidating from nearby, colorful, blinking ads littering the sides of the walls much like New York at night—even though the creatures rummaging around it screamed nothing of home, neither did the smell of a mixture of heat, dirt and metal entering your nostrils, nor did the sound of machinery piercing your eardrums in low tunes from all around you, from spaceships floating and flying around in the pit holding the city in its clutches in front of your eyes.

You watched everything bustle around in silence, only sound the moving city below.

“Thank you.”

Your voice was small, tiny as it cut through even the hollow drill of electronics and machines, of voices through speakers far, far away. Out of the corner of your eyes you noticed his gaze shift to you, pace slowing as feelings of wonder and confusion blossomed deeply within his chest.

“For?”

You returned his gaze, deciding to pull all the gratefulness you felt into your eyes, into the stare locked on him while your lips pulled into a smile despite the uncertainties of what laid just beyond the horizon, waiting for you.

“For staying with me,” you finished.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m terribly, terribly sorry for leaving you all hanging for so long!  
> Truth be told, I’ve fallen into a sudden pit of -Where was I going with this- and -I really want a break- so I kinda took one...sorry.
> 
> I’m still not out of it, for one. I barely held myself together for long enough to write this and I really hope it won’t take me that long to write the next!
> 
> On yet another note, it seems I have started writing something completely different to procrastinate on this one...and ANOTHER truth would be that I started watching a well, well known series and I have not breathed since starting it—I’m at season 12 and dead.
> 
> Again, I’ll not abandon it, updates might just be sliiiiightly irregular for now. Sorry.  
> But feel free to drop what you think in the comments, everything might inspire the sudden urge to continue!
> 
> Love you guys :)

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! :)
> 
> I appreciate constructive critique—what you liked, didn’t like, what I could improve—  
> Mere yells of terror as you drown in an abundance of feels are also very much appreciated!
> 
> Thank you for reading! :)


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